Before the tension could boil over, a sharp, rhythmic tapping echoed from the side of the room.
"All rise for the Honorable Judge Chris Jones," the bailiff's voice boomed, cutting through the heavy silence.
The entire courtroom stood up in a wave of rustling fabric and scraping chairs. Judge Jones, a stern man with sharp gray eyes and a reputation for absolute intolerance of courtroom theatrics, took his place at the high bench. He adjusted his black robes, his eyes sweeping over the crowded gallery, the defense table, and finally resting on Paige.
"Please be seated," the judge declared, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He turned his attention toward the heavy wooden doors to his right. "Bring in the jury."
A tense, expectant hush fell over the room. The side doors open
