Even Judge Vance seemed to take a moment to register the presence of a three-star general in his family court.

The bailiff at the side of the room stood a little straighter, his shoulders squaring back.

Judge Vance adjusted his glasses and looked down from his bench.

“Mr. Holloway,” the judge said, his voice dropping to a level, dangerous register. “Sit down.”

Grant’s lawyer grabbed his client’s arm again, his grip tight enough to wrinkle the fabric of Grant’s expensive gray suit.

“Sit down, Grant,” the lawyer muttered, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet room. “Now.”

Grant let out a sharp, ragged breath, his chest heaving under his shirt.

He slowly sank back into his chair, though his eyes remained fixed on me, burning with a mixture of rage and panic.

He looked like a man who had suddenly realized the water was much deeper than he had prepared for.

Judge Vance picked up a stack of documents from his desk.

The paper rustled loudly in the quiet room.

“This court has reviewed the emergency petition filed by the petitioner, Mr. Holloway,” Judge Vance began.