Chapter 66: Courtroom Dorian

The only other person who would probably know where Dorian was at any given moment was Adrian.

His trusted assistant. Keeper of schedules. Fixer of problems.

She didn’t have his direct number, though which meant she had to call the firm. The call connected after a few seconds.

"Hello, Heathcliffe and Associates. How may I help you?"

Oh, she remembered that voice. That rude receptionist. She would never forget the woman. Back when Naomi had first discovered she was apparently married to Dorian Heathcliffe, she had spent weeks trying to get through to him.

And that woman had blocked her every single time. Naomi had been so frustrated she could have stabbed her in the eyes.

But after being told for the fifth time that Mr Heathcliffe was unavailable and that she could leave yet another message no one seemed interested in returning, Naomi had come very close to understanding how people ended up on crime documentaries.

"Yeah, my name is..." Naomi stopped herself.

How many times had she given that woman her name before? And what had it gotten her? She straightened unconsciously.

"This is Mrs Naomi Heathcliffe. Could you put me through to my husband’s personal assistant?"

The receptionist’s tone shifted so smoothly it nearly made Naomi laugh. "Good morning, ma’am. I’ll patch you through immediately."

Well.

Lookie here.

No may I ask what this is regarding? No Mr Heathcliffe is extremely busy. Just immediate cooperation.

Apparently all she had needed months ago was a legally binding marriage certificate. Naomi looked around the kitchen, fighting a grin.

Mrs Heathcliffe.

How about that? She hadn’t even said please. It was deeply satisfying. After everything that receptionist had put her through, Naomi felt she had earned at least one small moment of shameless enjoyment.

The call transferred. Soft hold music played.

Mrs Heathcliffe.

She still wasn’t completely used to it. Sometimes the name felt ridiculous. Other times, like Sunday at Richard’s house, it had felt powerful.

And now apparently it came with upgraded privileges. She bit back another smile. This was dangerous.

She was becoming far too comfortable with this temporary marriage. She had the sudden urge to go over to the firm just to be petty and introduce herself once more in person.

"Hello, Adrian Archer speaking..." Adrian’s voice came through the line sounding exactly as he usually did: calm and professional.

"Adrian!" Naomi said brightly.

"Yes, Mrs Heathcliffe." The man suddenly sounded bored.

Naomi frowned. Honestly, could nobody employed by Heathcliffe & Associates sound happy to hear from her? "I’m trying to get a hold of Dorian. Is he in the office?"

"No, he’s in court."

"Oh." Naomi glanced down at the iPad. "Could you send me the details?" she asked. "I’d like to drop something off for him myself."

"Should I be worried?"

"Why would you be worried?"

"The last time you dropped something off, you both made headlines."

Naomi’s mouth fell open then she narrowed her eyes at absolutely nothing. "Ha-ha. Funny, Adrian." She was not amused.

Unfortunately, he had a point. The last time she had shown up looking for Dorian in public, she had shouted that she wanted a divorce outside a courthouse.

"I’m not planning to yell at him."

"I’ll send you the details."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Thank you." she hung up.

A message came through less than a minute later with the courthouse information and courtroom number.

Naomi grabbed her bag, took Dorian’s iPad and headed out. A short while later, Naomi arrived at the courthouse. She went through security, followed Adrian’s instructions and eventually found the correct courtroom. She pushed the door open as quietly as possible.

A lot was happening inside. People seated behind the barrier. Someone speaking from the witness stand.

She slipped inside and immediately searched the room. Then she found him. Dorian sat near the front at the defense table.

His posture relaxed as he leaned slightly back in his chair, listening to the prosecutor questioning the witness.

One hand rested near a legal pad while the other held a pen loosely between his fingers.

Naomi quietly found a seat near the very back. She had no idea what the case was about. From what she could gather, a woman had died.

The man currently sitting in the witness box was her husband. Naomi’s eyes moved back to Dorian.

He barely reacted while the prosecutor spoke. She tried to follow the gist. Court language had a special ability to make simple things sound unnecessarily complicated.

She checked the time. Hopefully they would wrap up soon. She needed to get to the bakery. The prosecutor finally stepped away from the witness stand.

"No further questions, Your Honor."

Naomi straightened slightly. The judge said something she didn’t completely catch. Then Dorian got to his feet.

And Naomi’s attention sharpened instantly.

Oh.

Okay.

This was different. At home, Dorian was arrogant in an irritating way. The man standing in that courtroom was still Dorian, but everything playful had disappeared.

He looked like a man preparing for battle.

Naomi suddenly understood why people paid him whatever ridiculous amount of money they paid him.

Dorian walked toward the witness stand. She found herself leaning forward slightly. "Mr Helsher, I am truly sorry for your loss." Dorian began. "The night that your wife died, you claimed you got home late. You found your wife bleeding out, and gasping for breath. When did you call 911?"

"Immediately," the witness answered.

Dorian nodded as though the response pleased him. "Was this before or after you looked out the window and saw my client fleeing the scene?"

Mr Helsher hesitated. "I... during... I picked up my phone, hurried to the window and found him running across the street to his car parked on the other side."

Dorian gave a small nod. "Yes. You gave quite the description, Mr Helsher."

"Objection." The prosecutor was already on her feet.

Naomi glanced toward her. The judge said something about counsel asking a question instead of commenting on the testimony.

Dorian didn’t appear bothered. "Of course, Your Honor."