IMOGEN'S POV
The courthouse steps felt steeper than I remembered. I paused at the top, adjusting my navy blazer and checking my watch. Eight forty-five. Fifteen minutes before the bigamy hearing that would either free me from Elijah permanently or trap me in his web for months longer.
Amala walked beside me, her heels clicking against the marble floor with military precision. She'd chosen a sharp gray suit that screamed competence and no-nonsense professionalism. Everything about her appearance was calculated to project authority.
"Remember," she said as we approached the courtroom doors, "this is preliminary. Judge Morrison is just establishing the facts of the case and determining next steps. Don't let Elijah bait you into emotional responses."
I nodded, though my stomach felt like it was trying to crawl up my throat. The performance started now. The careful balance of appearing reasonable while making it clear that reconciliation was impossible.
