Straightening up, Harold patted his cheeks, forcing himself into motion. Self-pity could wait; for now, he needed to be prepared. He sent a quick series of messages to his uncle, seeking details about the event. If he was going to show up and play his part, he would at least do it right.
And so, the facade would continue. For now, that was all there was.
-----
Jerica strode down the marble-floored hallway toward Judge Jefferson's office, her heels striking a confident rhythm that echoed through the silent corridor.
Each step resonated with her determination; she needed to know if they had pieced it together yet, or if she would need to reveal the truth—that she was Jared's wife and that whatever they had caught on camera was eyebrow-raising but neither illegal nor immoral.
