The smile did not belong in the room.It sat on Mark’s face like something misplaced, quiet and deliberate, not loud enough to draw immediate reprimand, but present enough to unsettle the fragile balance that had just been restored. He did not rise this time, did not interrupt again, yet the weight of what he had said lingered in the air, carried forward by the single phrase he had chosen.“Not everything.”It was not a denial, nor was it a correction. It was an opening.The judge’s gaze shifted briefly in his direction, measuring, holding, then moving on without comment, the structure of the courtroom reasserting itself through restraint rather than reaction.“Counsel,” she said.Greene stepped forward.There was no visible urgency in the movement, no shift in pace, yet something in the space around him changed, tightening not in tension, but in focus, as though the direction of the room had been quietly reclaimed.“Ms. Tricia,” he said, his voice even, controlled, “I would like to r
Read more