Chapter 6 - The Facade Crumbles
Eleanor Caldwell was sixty-two years old, elegant, with silver-streaked hair and eyes that had seen through every brand of corporate climber in the state. What Andrew didn’t realize—because he never bothered to learn about women beyond what they could do for him—was that Eleanor had served twenty-five years as a presiding judge in the Fourth Appellate District before retiring.
I knew her. Ten years ago, before I got married, I had been her designated courtroom reporter for high-profile municipal corruption trials.
"Caroline?" Eleanor looked at me, her gaze instantly locking onto my pale skin, the faint tremble in my good right hand, and the heavy medical brace concealed under my cashmere wrap.
"Judge Caldwell," I said, offering a faint, respectful nod.
Andrew blinked, surprised. "Wait... you two know each other?"
"Mrs. Mercer was one of the sharpest officers of the court this county ever employed, Mr. Mercer," Eleanor said smoothly, her tone polite but razor-sharp. "Her transcription accuracy was legendary. When Caroline took down a record, not a single syllable was ever misplaced."
Andrew laughed nervously. "Well, that was before she became a full-time homemaker. Babies change priorities, don't they, darling?" He reached out to grab a champagne glass from a passing waiter, accidentally bumping my healing left arm.
The white-hot bolt of pain took my breath away. A quiet gasp escaped my lips.
"Careful, Caroline," Andrew hissed under his breath, barely moving his lips as his smile remained plastered on his face for the crowd. "Stop making a scene in front of the board."
Eleanor Caldwell’s eyes narrowed. She had caught the whisper. She had caught the flinch.
May you like
Before Andrew could steer me away, Eleanor touched my right forearm gently. "Caroline, dear. Come with me to the ladies' lounge. You look faint, and I believe we have much to catch up on."
***
