~Wilson's POV~
I felt the dull thud of the gavel hit the wood, signalling the end of a surprisingly petty probate hearing. It was just after 4:00 PM, and the fluorescent lights in my chambers...not the grand, oak-lined courtroom itself, but the private, adjoining office where I handled pre-trial motions and confidential pleas...always seemed to hum louder as the day wore down.
I, Judge Wilson, the supposed epitome of legal uprightness...fair verdicts for first-timers, no mercy for the repeat offenders. My peers called me the Rock of the Courthouse, and I wore that title like a badge...was now bone tired and ready for the solitude of my leather armchair and a scotch.
“Call the next motion, please,” I said to Ms. Chen, my clerk, through the intercom, adjusting the collar of my judicial r
