“Do not lose it here,” she whispered. “Do you hear me? Don’t give him that.”
My throat felt raw.
“He’s destroying it.”
“I know.”
“That’s six months.”
“I know.”
I stood there, every muscle rigid, while inside that room a man with a robe and a title took a hammer to something I had built because he believed he could.
That was the moment the story stopped being about recovering a project.
It became about surviving humiliation without letting it turn me into the kind of person he wanted me to be.
Outside the courthouse, Laura started making calls before we even hit the sidewalk.
Administrative duty judge.
Court executive office.
Property oversight.
Nobody moved fast enough.
Or maybe nobody wanted to be the one who moved against Walter Harlan first.
My phone buzzed.
Dad.
I answered before I saw the full screen.
“They’re destroying it right now,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “Put me on speaker.”
I did.
Laura looked at me, confused.
“My father,” I said.
His voice came through clear and controlled.
“This is Robert Carter. Who am I speaking with?”
“Laura Chen, county public defender,” she said.
“Ms. Chen, take Devon back inside.”
“They already removed us.”
“Go back in.”
The way he said it changed even Laura’s posture.
“If security stops you,” he continued, “show them the number I’m texting Devon now and ask them to call it immediately.”
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