Closing my eyes, I can’t focus if I watch anyone. “The first one, I was about eight weeks along. We’d just found out, and I had horrible morning sickness. Mason hated that I wasn’t at his beck and call. That I couldn’t cook and clean as well as before. That at night, I wasn’t readily available to him.”
“Readily available for what?” I hear the courtroom door open and dig my nails into my palms.
“To service him.”
“For sex, you mean?”
I nod. “Yes.” I barely get the word out.
“How do you know this is why he was mad?” I get the feeling the lawyer is about to object again.
“Because with every punch and slap, he would tell me why he was killing our child.” I can’t stop the tears this time. Brushing them aside with my hands, I feel suffocated. I can’t breathe, and I wish more than anything that I didn’t have to be here.
“Did he hurt you after the miscarriage? Before you were pregnant again.”
“Yes. With Mason, nothing was ever consensual in the bedroom and very rarely outside of it, either. He liked that I could dress up and not appear slutty. He liked that I was intelligent enough to hold a conversation with his clients despite being some small-town girl.”
“Objection, speculation!”
“I have affidavits from clients, employees, and contractors who have all overheard these things being said, Your Honor.” Opening my eyes when I hear Andrea’s voice drifting away, I notice her moving from our table to Mason’s and then to the judge with a number of papers. Papers I didn’t even know she had.
“Tell me about the second miscarriage, Laken.” She hands me a box of tissues this time.
Retrieving one, I dab at my eyes, and that’s when I see him.
Hale.
Sitting in the back row. A flurry of rage and murder fighting for dominance on his face. But his eyes, they’re so filled with compassion for me. With affection and love. I didn’t know I needed him here until I saw him.
“We had just heard the heartbeat for the first time. Because of the lower rate, the doctor speculated it could be a boy. We would have found out at the next ultrasound. I was prescribed medication for the morning sickness, but it didn’t work. And Mason grew even angrier than the first time.” My legs shake as I recall that day. “I was in the middle of making his breakfast when a bout of nausea hit me, and I had to run to the washroom. His eggs burned, and his toast grew cold.”
“What happened next, Laken?”
“Objection!” I get the feeling the lawyer just likes the word.
“Be quiet, Mr. Burke. I’ve been provided with far more evidence than I’d like to believe any young woman should have to go through at the hands of a monster. Ms. Cooke has earned her right to speak of the atrocities against her.” Stunned by the judge’s comment, I can only stare at Andrea, who shrugs. She did tell me the first time we met that her court experiences are atypical in that the defense isn’t privy to the information she finds until the appearance dates.
“Tell me what happened,” she repeats.
“He came storming into the bathroom and kicked me so hard in the stomach that I began to vomit blood, and he didn’t stop until I was passed out on the floor.” I still remember that day like it was yesterday. “He left me there. A housekeeper found me four hours later and called for an ambulance.”
“Lying bitch.” Mason’s censure sends chills down my spine, and when I see Lauren get to her feet, I worry about what she’ll do until I see her rushing to Hale, escorting him out of the room. “She tried to trap me!” he yells at his lawyer. “I didn’t want no dumb hick baby of hers. Nobody would. Fucking whore.”
“I suggest you advise your client to silence his insults, Mr. Burke.” The judge glares at their table as one of the bailiffs moves towards them in case Mason does something stupid.
“Do you want this divorce, Laken?” I’m relieved Andrea doesn’t ask about the third baby. That one was so much more personal because I was far enough along to know it was a little girl.
“I do. More than anything, I want to be untangled from Mason Miller.”
“Thank you, Laken.”
Andrea sits back down, and I watch as Mr. Burke gets to his feet, presumably to question me, and while I had convinced myself I was prepared for the way he would likely tear me apart, I feel myself panicking. I’m not ready. I can’t handle it.
“I’m granting the divorce,” the judge blurts out before anyone can say or do anything.
“Your Honor, I haven’t been able to question the plaintiff. My client hasn’t had the opportunity to defend himself.” The man grows visibly angry.
“You may take a seat now, Ms. Cooke.” Quickly leaving the witness stand, I rush over to Andrea. “Court works a little differently when it comes to Miss Shay’s domestic unit. A lot of time and money goes into her investigations, and very rarely do I need to hear from the defendants. I look at this as a way for the victims/survivors to have their side told without getting badgered. Of which I’m certain you were about to do to Ms. Cooke.”