Her sharp, dismissive laugh was completely gone.

She stared straight at the red exit sign, her heels clicking fast against the floor as they led her away.

Julian sat thirty feet down the hall on a long wooden bench.

His lawyer stood over him, talking in quick, hushed sentences and pointing at a stack of legal papers.

Julian sat with his head down, his good navy blue silk tie loosened and crooked against his white collar.

A bailiff walked past them carrying Clara’s leather handbag in a sealed plastic evidence bag.