ELENA POV
The courtroom doors opened.
The first thing I noticed was the noise, not loud, but a low murmur of voices, shuffling papers, and the clicking of camera shutters. Then the lights. Bright. Harsh. Making everything feel surreal.
I stepped through, flanked by two marshals.
The courtroom was packed. Every seat is filled. People standing along the walls. And cameras. So many cameras.
I kept my eyes forward, as Martina had instructed, and focused on the defense table where he stood waiting.
But I couldn't help scanning the crowd as I walked.
Journalists with notepads. Sketch artists. Court officials. Families of the Riverside victims, I recognized Margaret Torres in the third row, her hands clasped in prayer.
And then I saw him.
Adrien.
Back row, far corner. Trying to be inconspicuous but failing because he was staring at me with such intensity it was like a physical touch.
Our eyes met for just a second.
