Chapter 51: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

The prosecutor rose smoothly, buttoning his suit jacket.

“Your Honor, the defendant was apprehended two days ago after being found with a missing minor, Junior Stewart.”

Murmurs rippled through the courtroom.

“She claimed at first that he was her son,” the prosecutor continued, “but after being caught red-handed, she confessed—signing a statement that she knowingly took the child from Maverick’s Hospital and attempted to cross state lines.”

Nevena’s lips burst open . “That’s not true, I never tried to take him with me”

The judge glanced at her over the rim of her glasses. “Ms. Bachvarov, you’ll have your chance to speak.”

The prosecutor stepped forward, holding up her passport and an expired plane ticket.

“This evidence proves she was preparing to flee.”

The judge examined the documents, then looked toward the defense table. “Do you have anything to say in her defense?”

“Not reall—” Santiago began, but a voice interrupted from the back.

“Yes, Your Honor,” it said—firm, measured and refined

Heads tilted toward the entrance — and in walked a tall man in a charcoal suit.

He moved with the calm precision of a soldier, unhurried yet unmistakably dominant.

Even before he spoke, the murmurs sweeping through the gallery made it clear to Nevena that he was someone of importance.

He approached the bench, leaned toward the judge’s aide, murmured a few things before turning to Santiago.

“Excuse me, counselor,” his tone was calm but absolute.

“You can step out now. Ms. Bachvarov’s legal representation has been reassigned.”

Santiago blinked, confused. “Reassigned? By whom?”

The newcomer extended a folded document. “By a philanthropist.”

Nevena’s head snapped up, breath catching.

“Philanthropist?” Santiago repeated.

“Yes.” The man gave a polite, tight smile. “He’s requested that I take over from here. Thank you for your service.”

Santiago hesitated, then gathered his papers and left without a word.

The newcomer turned to Nevena, offering his hand with quiet authority.

“I’m Dr. Andrés Mateo—your new counsel.”

Nevena didn’t take his hand because of the cuff on her wrist, instead her voice came out as a whisper. “Who sent you?”

“Let’s just say,” Mateo murmured, lowering his voice, “someone who doesn’t trust the system to handle you fairly.”

Before Nevena could say more, the bailiff called for silence.

Mateo straightened, adjusting his tie— files on the other hand.

Nevena's eyes travelled through the spectators and paused on Breanna.

She stood beside the prosecutor’s table… uneasy.

“Your Honor,” Mateo began, voice firm but measured,

“Before this court proceeds with any formal hearing, I’d like to draw attention to several procedural irregularities in my client’s case.”

The prosecutor frowned. “Mr. Mateo, we’ve already passed that—”

“I’m aware,” Mateo cut in—polite, but sharp.

“Which makes it all the more concerning that my client was detained for over thirty-six hours without legal counsel or interrogation, coerced into signing a statement she could barely read.”

A ripple of argument ran through the spectators.

The judge tapped her pen once. “Are you suggesting misconduct, Mr. Mateo?”

“I’m suggesting,” Mateo replied coolly, “that the State was in such a hurry, just like my learned opponent — to make an example of a foreigner that due process became optional.”

The prosecutor shot to his feet. “Objection—!”

“Sustained,” the judge snapped at the prosecutor, eyes narrowing at Mateo. “Watch your tone, counselor.”

Mateo inclined his head slightly. “Of course, Your Honor.” Then, lowering his voice just enough for flow.

“My client was not attempting to flee, nor did she resist arrest. I have here an official appeal requesting more time to conveniently gather evidence in her defense.”

He placed a folder on the desk with deliberate weight.

The prosecutor shifted uncomfortably as the Judge studied the file.

“You seem quite confident, Mr. Mateo,” the judge remarked.

Mateo’s lips curved faintly. “Confidence, Your Honor, comes from knowing the truth has been cornered. It’s just a matter of time before it bites— I will let the court decide.”

The judge looked toward the prosecutor. “Do you have any objections, or shall the court proceed?”

“Of course, Your Honor.” The prosecutor's gaze sharpened, this was his chance.

He stepped forward with Junior's recorded testimony. “So before this Honorable court decides whether to adjourn the trial, I respectfully move for it to review the victim’s testimony before any further delays.”

The judge nodded. “Proceed.”

A hush fell as the bailiff activated the recorder. Junior’s small voice filled the room—clear, damning—as he described with details how Nevena had “lured him” from the hospital.

Nevena’s composure shattered. She sprang to her feet, tears streaking down her face.

“This is all lies!” she cried. “I never lured him—he was neglected! I was only helping him!”

Mateo reached for her arm quickly. “Don’t,” he whispered, but Nevena wasn't having it.

“I won’t keep quiet anymore!” she shot back. “Someone has manipulated him into giving a —”

“One more word, Ms. Bachvarov,” the judge cut in sharply. “And the court will penalize you. Last warning.”

Nevena bit her lip hard, swallowing her rage. Her eyes, wet with fury, flicked toward the prosecutor’s table—landing on Sophia.

Sophia caught her resentful gaze, briefly before turning away.

Mateo inclined his head slightly on behalf of her. “Apologies for the disrespect, Your Honor.”

Then, lowering his voice just enough that only Nevena could hear, he added, “They’ll try to rattle you. Don’t let them— let me do the talking.”

She nodded faintly, forcing herself to stay silent.

He countered the evidence as a written script, thereby requesting to cross examine the “victim.”

“The boy is back in school,” the prosecutor refuted the request. “Moreover he’s not required to relive this ordeal.”

“But my client has the right to confront her accuser,” Mateo countered evenly. “Furthermore, the evidence presented against her so far — if you can even call it evidence — is circumstantial at best, fabricated at worst.”

The two men went back and forth until the bailiff called for order.

Finally, the judge spoke, her tone less severe. “The defendant will remain in custody pending further review. The Court however tasks the prosecution to ensure the boy’s appearance before this court. Hearing adjourned.”

The gavel struck once—sharp, final.

Sophia and two officers approached Nevena, leading her out.

Breanna stayed behind with the prosecutor, murmuring about the logistics of bringing Junior in.