Chapter 2: The Walk of Judgment
The ballroom became a vacuum. The air was thin, charged with a sudden, violent electricity. Judge Vance began to walk. The crowd, usually jostling to get close to power, instinctively parted like the Red Sea. They sensed that whatever was in that envelope wasn't just paper; it was a detonation.
Evelyn Thorne stood near the French doors, her exit path blocked by the growing crowd. She was a woman who had authored the city's zoning laws, who had funded the police commissioner’s campaigns, and who thought she was the puppet master of this entire state.
"Judge Vance," she said, her voice dripping with artificial warmth, though her eyes were darting toward the exits. "What a... dramatic introduction. I hope you aren't suggesting this boy was acting on your behalf?"
Vance stopped three feet from her. He was six inches taller, and in this moment, he seemed to grow even larger. "I’ve spent forty years listening to liars, Senator. I know the sound of a hollow voice. Do you know what I found under that podium?"
"I couldn't possibly know," she hissed, trying to reclaim her composure. "But whatever it is, I suggest you hand it over to the authorities."
May you like
"Oh, I intend to," Vance replied. "But first, I think everyone here deserves a front-row seat to the truth."
He tapped his screen. A soft ping resonated through the room. Then another. Then a chorus. Every phone in the ballroom vibrated simultaneously.
