It was a sound I didn’t recognize as my own, though I knew it was.

On the screen, I fell to the floor, clawing at my sleeve as steam rose from my clothes.

Ethan stood there, his hands in his pockets, watching me writhe.

Margaret calmly walked to the sink, picked up a dish towel, and began wiping the counter.

“Get her phone,” Margaret’s voice came through the speakers.

“We need to get the documents out of her car.”

The video cut to black.

The courtroom lights came back on.

The silence in the room was absolute.

Several jurors had their hands over their mouths.

The older woman in the front row was staring at Margaret with open disgust.

Margaret was looking down at her hands, her face pale.

Ethan looked like he was about to vomit.

“No further questions,” Vance said, walking back to his table.

Margaret’s attorney stood up slowly, looked at his notes, and then sat back down.

“No cross-examination, Your Honor,” he said.

“You may step down, Mrs. Brooks,” the judge said.

I stood up, holding my left arm close to my body, and walked back to the gallery.