Chapter 259: Chapter 259: The Court
"I have no idea, and I don’t give a shit," said Alexander, his voice flat and cutting before she could even formulate a retort.
Without giving her a second to reply, he pushed past her shoulder, leaving her standing in the corridor with her jaw clenched in disbelief. Alexander opened the mahogany doors and walked into the main tribunal chamber.
The room looked like something lifted out of a high-budget political thriller. The ceilings rose into vast, shadowed arches, and the gallery was lined with dark wood paneling. At the front sat a panel of three judges robed in black, their expressions unreadable.
On the opposite side of the aisle sat Stella Sinclair, looking as arrogant as ever in a pristine white designer dress, flanked by a team of six high-priced defense attorneys. Her father, Arthur Sinclair, sat right behind her, his arms crossed, projecting an aura of financial invincibility.
Elizabeth stepped into the room moments later, her brief flash of anger hidden behind her professional mask as she sat down at the prosecutor’s table next to Alexander.
"The tribunal is now in session," announced the lead judge, his gavel striking the wood with a dull thud. "The defense may present its opening summary regarding the digital evidence."
"Thank you, Your Honors," said the lead defense attorney, standing up confidently. "As the verified logs show, the traffic cameras at the intersection in question experienced a severe localized grid malfunction at the exact time of the alleged incident. Furthermore, the three state witnesses have formally recanted their statements, admitting to visual confusion. There is zero physical or digital evidence linking my client’s vehicle to the scene. This is nothing more than a baseless extortion attempt against the Sinclair estate."
Stella offered a faint, mocking smirk from across the aisle, looking at Alexander as if he were already defeated.
Elizabeth Collins slowly rose from her seat, smoothing down her charcoal jacket. The professional aura around her intensified, showing exactly why she was trusted with high-level cases.
"A grid malfunction," said Elizabeth, her voice echoing through the chamber with a sharp, academic clarity that demanded attention. "A highly convenient narrative, counselor. However, the defense seems to assume that the public municipal network is the only source of truth in this city. You were very thorough in purchasing the local infrastructure feeds, but you forgot that not everything can be manipulated with a checkbook."
She pressed a button on her tablet, and a massive projection screen lowered behind the judges’ bench flaring to life with high-definition security angles.
"What you are seeing now," said Elizabeth, pointing a laser at the screen, "are unedited, hard-coded recordings from the private logistics facility and the armored transport depot flanking that exact intersection. We acquired these local server logs hours before your agents could even locate the building owners to offer a bribe. As you can see, Miss Sinclair’s red sports car didn’t just swerve—she intentionally accelerated toward Mr. Alexander’s position on three separate passes."
Stella’s mocking smirk vanished, her face turning pale as her father, Arthur, stiffened in his seat behind her, his knuckles turning white against the wooden bench.
"And the recording doesn’t stop after the initial targeted assaults."
She tapped the tablet again, switching the feed to a wider angle from a nearby banking firm.
"After Mr. Alexander managed to evade the targeted vehicular strikes at the intersection," said Elizabeth, looking at the panel of judges, "the defendant continued her reckless flight down the avenue. As the footage indicates, she lost control at the next intersection, slamming into the concrete foundation of a commercial building at high speed."
The video played in brutal clarity. The red sports car crumpled against the structural pillar, smoke immediately pouring from the shattered hood as fuel began to spray across the asphalt.
"The impact left Miss Sinclair unconscious as the vehicle’s engine block caught fire," said Elizabeth, turning her cold gaze toward the defense table. "And who was it that braved the impending explosion, broke the reinforced glass, and dragged her limp body out of the driver’s seat just seconds before the entire chassis detonated into a fireball? It was the very man she had just tried to murder: Mr. Alexander."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the chamber. Stella stared at the screen, her lips trembling as the vivid memory of the heat and the smoke flashed through her mind, while Arthur Sinclair slammed his folder down onto the table, his face turning an angry shade of crimson.
"Objection!" shouted the lead defense attorney, standing up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. "This is speculative! The rescue was a separate emergency event and has no bearing on the alleged intent during the prior traffic incident!"
"Overruled," said the lead judge, his voice cold as his eyes remained fixed on the burning wreckage on the screen. "The timeline is continuous. Counsel, wrap up your presentation."
Elizabeth Collins turned toward the judges, her posture radiating authority as she seized the room’s momentum.
"This isn’t just about reckless driving, Your Honors," said Elizabeth, her voice dropping into a somber, powerful cadence that made Alexander look like a tragic, selfless victim. "This is about a compassionate, honorable citizen who chose to risk his own life to save the very monster who had just tried to erase him from this world. And how was his heroism rewarded by the Sinclair family? With intimidation, erased files, and paid-off witnesses. They treated him like garbage, attempting to bury him in the shadows just to protect a spoiled princess’s reputation."
She stepped closer to the bench, slamming her palm on the wooden railing.
"We demand that Stella Sinclair face the full, unmitigated weight of the law for her actions," said Elizabeth, her eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. "And furthermore, given the immense financial power and documented hostility of the Sinclair estate, we request immediate, legally mandated state protection for Mr. Alexander to ensure his safety from any further corporate retaliation."
Arthur Sinclair let out a low, venomous growl from the gallery, realizing that the political trap Julian had laid out through Elizabeth was snapping shut around his neck, leaving him powerless to save his daughter.
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