The courtroom did not erupt again after the recording stopped. Instead, it sank into a deeper kind of silence—one that settled into the bones and refused to leave. The shock had already passed, but what remained was heavier, denser, almost suffocating. It pressed against every wall, every breath, every thought, as though the room itself had been sealed off from air.
Vivian sat still, her chest rising slowly as her mind struggled to catch up with everything she had just heard. Even now, the voice from the recording lingered faintly in her ears, each word sharper in memory than it had been in sound, as though it had carved itself into her consciousness and refused to fade.
Dorian's voice.
Clear. Cold. Intentional.
There was no mistaking it.
