Henry Wilde. A weak man, yes, but he dared stand tall at my court. His think frame was almost swallowed by the oversize suit he wore, the jacket hanging loose at the shoulders, as though it had been borrowed last minute. His once-boyish face was now etched with lines of regret, his nervous hands fidgeting as he took the oath. But it was his eyes that betrayed him the most – a flicker of ear behind the pretence of bravery.

This was the same man who had kept his head down for years, too spineless to challenge anything or anyone. Yet here he was, defying every expectation. He wasn’t the Henry I remembered – the quiet colleague who melted into the background of every room. Today, he had an edge to him, a determination I hadn’t seen before. Whether it was guilt, desperation, or something else entirely, I couldn’t say.

My breath hitches.

“What’s this?” I think, my pulse quickening. “Why is he here?”

The lawyer starts, “Mr. Wilde, can you tell the court your involvement in the Gypsum Investment case, and more specifically, Mr. Carver’s role?”

My stomach drops. The Gypsum Investment. That whole mess had been buried years ago. It was a distant memory, something I thought was behind me. It had cost me plenty of clients, but the company had weathered the storm. So why now? Why dredge up something that’s already been dealt with?

Henry hesitates. His voice cracks as he begins, “I… I was a junior associate at the firm when we got involved in the Gypsum deal. It was... it was big. Too big. But Mr. Carver pushed for it. He– he was the one who made it happen.”

My mind races. This is not happening. Not here. Not now.

Henry looks at me now, his eyes filled with guilt, like he’s finally found the courage to speak the truth. He’s doing it now – but it’s too late. The damage is done.

“He manipulated vulnerable families, coal miner families, those who were struggling and already had so little left to lose. He used his position to coerce them into taking the deal, and even took advantage of his wife’s parents. They had so little to begin with, but were convinced it would help their daughter have a better life, something they couldn’t always afford. And they lost everything when it fell through.”

The courtroom goes silent.

I feel a coldness grip me.

The room spins.

…

I can almost feel the weight of that night again – the cold air, the dim light filtering through the kitchen windows. The distant hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock. I had been sitting outside, nursing a drink and smoking a cigarette when I heard her footsteps, slow and deliberate.

I had been careless, leaving the papers of the deal on the kitchen table. They spelled out everything. The numbers, the signatures, and the decisive blow, her parents’ names, clear as day. It was just one mistake – one slip – but it was all she needed.

She had walked in quietly, too quiet for someone for someone who had just come back from her sister’s. I didn’t hear her at first, too lost in my own thoughts I suppose, the alcohol dulling everything around me. But when she cleared her throat, I knew. I didn’t need to turn around. I didn’t need to see the paper in her hand.

“What is this?” Her voice was calm, there was a tremor in it I couldn’t place. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. There was nothing I could say.

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She dropped the paper on the patio table with a sharp slap. I turned slowly, just as she looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “My parents lost everything, Vincent. Everything. How could you do this? To them? To us?” Her hand trembled as she pointed to the deal – everything I had done. The families I’d ruined. The lies. The manipulation. Her parents.

I felt the walls close in on me, but I didn’t know how to make it stop. My throat tightened. I couldn’t find the words.

She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, as if trying to comprehend the magnitude of what she had just uncovered. Then, her face twisted – betrayal, anger, all of it, written in the lines of her expression. And then came the tears.

“I didn’t- ” I started, but the words died in my throat. She didn’t let me finish.

“You knew. Don’t lie to me. You knew it would fall apart.”

I said nothing. There was nothing I could say.

She turned away from me, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. I reached out, but she jerked away.

I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, listening to the sound of her footsteps, fading away into the night. I didn’t know where she went, but I knew that everything had changed. There was no going back.

The door slammed behind her, and all I could hear was the echo of the world falling apart.

…

Mr. Hale, my criminal defence attorney, a tall man with a fancy suit and hair brushed back, stands and shouts “Your Honour, defamation! This has no relevance in this case, they are trying to paint my client as evil, he is just a man trying to do his job.”

“Defamation? How is it defamation, Your Honour, is it not all true Vincent?” says the slimy lawyer, followed by a disgusting cough.

“Don’t address my client directly! Your Honour, I move that he be removed from this case at once! He has no respect for the system and is trying to make a mockery of us!”

The judge banged her gavel and leaned forward, her voice stern: “Order! Order! Enough, both of you, focus on the case. I must remind you both that you’re in my courtroom.”

The lawyer responds quickly. “I apologise Your Honour, but I promise this story has relevance.”

“Fine, proceed.”

The lawyer pressed Wilde, “Did Mrs. Carver know about her parents’ involvement in Gypsum?”

Henry shifts uncomfortably in the witness stand. His gaze darts to me, then to the slimy lawyer, who circles him like a shark sensing blood.

“Mr. Wilde,” the lawyer begins, his tone almost oily, “you mentioned Mrs. Carver was furious after discovering the Gypsum deal. Let’s be specific: Did she blame her husband?”

Henry hesitates. His Adam’s apple bobs. “Yes.”

“And what did she say about it?”

Henry glances at me again, guilt etched into every line of his face. “She said…” He falters. “She said Vincent had ruined her family and that... she couldn’t forgive him.”

The courtroom buzzes with murmurs, quickly silenced by the judge’s gavel.

“Mr. Wilde,” the lawyer presses, his voice sharpening, “did Mrs. Carver confide in you about what she planned to do?”

Henry shifts in his seat. “She… she said she wanted the truth to come out, no matter the cost. But I didn’t think she would- she would die…”

Henry’s words hang in the air like smoke, suffocating. The lawyer drills him with more questions, but my mind drifts. Why is Henry really here? Guilt? Redemption? Or something else?

He was always quiet back in the office, content to let others do the talking. But now, standing in that witness stand, he looks like a man with a secret. His hands fidget on the wooden rail. His eyes flicker toward me, then away. It’s subtle, but I catch it: a flicker of something - fear? Regret?

The lawyer’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Mr. Wilde, did you have any contact with Mrs. Carver after she discovered the Gypsum deal?”

Henry’s lips tighten. “No. I… I didn’t.”

A lie. I can feel it in my gut. Henry was always terrible at lying.

“No further questions Your Honour.”

Henry steps down from the stand, his shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted. He doesn’t look at me as he passes, not at first. But just as he reaches the aisle, he pauses.

It’s fleeting, almost imperceptible, but I see it: the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk. Not a nervous smile or an apologetic one - a smirk.

My chest tightens. The bastard. He’s enjoying this, isn’t he? Watching me squirm, knowing he’s planted the seeds of doubt in the jury’s minds. Or is it something more? Is he trying to tell me something? Taunt me? Damn him.

My thoughts spiral. Did I miss something? Did Henry have a reason to hurt her? Or is this his way of saying he knows I didn’t – but that it doesn’t matter?

“We’ll take a quick break here and reconvene after lunch.”