The judge was looking at me with a sense of recognition that no one else in the room could possibly understand. He said my full name slowly as if each syllable carried a weight that had been forgotten by everyone else.
“Sarah Jane Miller Prescott,” he announced while looking over his spectacles at the man sitting across from me. Harrison’s head snapped toward the bench as he tried to process why the judge was using my maiden name.
Tiffany let go of Harrison’s arm and stepped back as if she sensed the sudden change in the atmosphere. For the last six years, Harrison had called me Sarah when he wanted to sound affectionate and nothing at all when he wanted to make me feel small.
He had convinced me that the Miller name was a relic of a life that no longer mattered. He told me that my mother’s legacy was just a burden I needed to put away so I could focus on being his wife.
The judge looked back down at the document in his hand and then turned his gaze toward Harrison. “Mr. Prescott, are you familiar with the specific contents of this emergency filing that arrived this morning?” he asked.
Harrison straightened his expensive tie and regained his composure with a speed that was almost frightening. “Your Honor, I have no idea what that paper is, but I can assure you my wife has been emotionally volatile for a long time,” he replied.
He used the phrase “my wife” like it was a legal title that gave him permission to ignore her humanity. The judge did not blink or look away from Harrison’s face as he listened to the explanation.
“I did not ask for your opinion on her mental state, so please refrain from answering questions that were not posed to you,” the judge said. The silence returned, heavier than before, as the bailiff finished locking the heavy doors.
My cheek was still throbbing with pain, and I felt the baby kick hard against my hand. The judge noticed the movement, and for a fleeting second, his stern expression softened into something that looked like genuine empathy.
“Mrs. Prescott, did you personally submit this supplemental evidence packet to my chambers this morning?” he asked gently. I whispered that I did not know because my attorney had been the one responsible for the filings.