Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Testified
The hearing took place on a wet Tuesday.
Elena wore a navy dress borrowed from Sophie and shoes she had bought herself.
Nothing about the outfit could stop her hands from shaking.
Ruth met them outside the courthouse.
Naomi waited beyond security with a folder beneath her arm.
“You can ask for a break,” she reminded Elena.
“I remember.”
“You can take time before answering.”
“I remember.”
“And you don’t have to look at him.”
That was the instruction Elena needed.
Ryan sat beside his attorney, looking smaller without an apartment doorway to fill.
When Elena entered, he straightened.
For one terrible second, her body wanted to apologize.
Then Sophie touched her elbow.
Elena kept walking.
She testified about the calls.
The threats.
The night outside her apartment.
She described his hand closing around her wrist and the doorframe striking her face as she pulled away.
Ryan’s attorney asked whether Alessandro Moretti had influenced her account.
“No.”
“Has he provided financial assistance?”
“He paid for my medical examination through my employer. An independent organization helped with my apartment.”
“Are you romantically involved with him?”
Naomi rose.
The judge addressed the question, then permitted limited inquiry into possible bias.
Elena swallowed.
“We have personal contact.”
“So your circumstances improved after accusing Mr. Mercer.”
The old shame rose.
She let it rise.
Then answered.
“My circumstances improved after I asked for help.”
Ryan looked away first.
By the end of the hearing, a protective order was entered with clear restrictions.
It was paper.
Elena understood that paper could not stand in a doorway.
But it established a boundary the world had finally agreed to recognize.
Outside, she cried beneath Ruth’s umbrella.
Sophie held her handbag.
Neither woman told her to be strong.
That afternoon, Victor Sloane was arrested in connection with the financial investigation and efforts to intimidate witnesses.
News cameras gathered outside his downtown office.
Elena turned off the television.
She was tired of men becoming the largest object in every room.
Instead, she called June.
“Would you like to have dinner?”
June arrived with a pie and three photographs Elena had never seen.
In one, Daniel Carter held a newborn Sophie while Elena slept against his shoulder.
The sight took her breath away.
“He talked about you constantly,” June said.
“What did he say?”
“That you asked difficult questions.”
Sophie laughed.
“Still does.”
June smiled, then grew serious.
“He knew there was danger. He thought he could give the records to the right person and keep it away from home.”
Elena studied the photograph.
For years, her father had existed as a loss.
Now he was becoming a man again.
Brave.
Imperfect.
Trying.
After dinner, Alessandro called.
“I saw the news,” he said.
“So did everyone.”
“I won’t ask how you feel.”
“Good. I’d need a longer phone plan.”
He laughed softly.
She leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Would you like coffee on Saturday?”
A pause.
“Very much.”
“A public place.”
“Of course.”
“And I’m buying mine.”
“I suspected.”
Their first date took place at a neighborhood bakery with crooked chairs and a child arguing passionately about a muffin.
Alessandro arrived without a visible entourage.
He wore a dark sweater.
Elena discovered that he hated raisins, read historical biographies, and had once broken his wrist attempting to impress a girl on roller skates.
“You?” she asked.
“I was fourteen.”
“Did it work?”
“She signed my cast.”
Elena laughed until her cheeks hurt.
When they stepped outside, he stopped beside her.
“May I kiss you?”
She looked at him for a long moment.
May you like
Then she answered with a certainty that belonged entirely to her.
“Yes.”
