"At least I have people willing to stand with me," she replies, voice steady despite her clear disdain. "All you have is your daddy's money and a reputation that's crumbling by the day."
Cooper's carefully constructed facade cracks slightly, rage seeping through. "Enjoy your moment, Riley. It won't last. When this is over, everyone will know exactly what kind of woman you really are."
Before I can respond, Sawyer steps forward, placing himself between Cooper and Riley. "That's enough. Save it for the judge."
Cooper's attorney, a nervous-looking man in an ill-fitting suit, tugs at his client's arm. "Brad, we should go review our statements. The hearing starts in ten minutes."
With a final venomous glare, Cooper allows himself to be led away, his father following after a calculating look at our assembled group.
"Don't let him get to you," I murmur to Riley, my hand returning to the small of her back. "That's exactly what he wants."
She nods, drawing strength from the supportive presence surrounding her. "I know. He's trying to throw me off balance before we get in there."
"And failing miserably," Sophie adds with a grin. "You've got this, Ri."
The courtroom doors open again, a bailiff announcing that Judge Winters is ready to begin proceedings. Rebecca gives us a reassuring nod, leading the way inside with confident steps.
As we follow, Riley's hand finds mine, squeezing tightly. I return the pressure, pouring every ounce of support, love, and certainty I possess into that simple connection.
"Together," I remind her quietly.
She looks up at me, green eyes clear and determined. "Together."
The word holds the weight of a promise, a commitment that goes far beyond this courtroom, this day, this fight. Whatever happens in the next hour, Riley and I face it as one.
And that, more than any legal decision, is what matters most.
The county courtroomfeels vast and imposing, with its polished wood paneling and rows of spectator seating. Judge Carolyn Matthews presides from an elevated bench, her silver hair and stern expression lending an air of gravitas to the proceedings.
I sit directly behind Riley in the first row, close enough to reach out and touch her if needed. Sawyer and Finn flank me, a united front of McKenna support. The rest of the seats are filled with familiar faces from Grizzly Ridge, the small town solidarity a tangible presence in the room.
Cooper sits at the opposite table with his attorney, his father conspicuously absent. Perhaps Ronald Cooper thought it wiser to maintain distance from these proceedings, to preserve plausible deniability if things go south for his son.
The hearing proceeds with methodical efficiency. Rebecca presents our evidence first: photographs of Riley's bruised wrist, the threatening messages Cooper left, statements from witnesses who saw him grab her at various points during their relationship. The trail camera footage from my property showing Cooper and his cousin trespassing with rifles. The accounts of his behavior at Maggie's diner.
Cooper's attorney attempts to paint Riley as unstable, as the aggressor in their relationship. He presents text messages taken out of context, statements from Cooper's friends claiming Riley was possessive and jealous. But his arguments feel hollow, disconnected, lacking the solid evidence backing our claims.
When Riley takes the stand, my heart pounds so hard I swear everyone in the courtroom must hear it. She looks small behind the witness box, but her voice carries clearly as she recounts Cooper's escalating abuse. She describes the controlling behavior that began with small criticisms and evolved into physical intimidation. Then the night she finally fled, taking only what she could carry, terrified he would follow.
Cooper watches her with narrow eyes, his jaw tight with barely controlled rage. I recognize that look. I've seen it on the faces of men who believe they own the world and everyone in it. Men who cannot fathom being told no. Men who view women as possessions to be controlled rather than equals to be respected.
When Cooper takes the stand to present his version of events, the lies flow smoothly from practiced lips. He describes Riley as emotionally unstable, claims she attacked him without provocation, suggests her relationship with me began before she left him, and constituted infidelity.
"Ms. Hart has always had a fascination with older men," he says, his voice dripping with insinuation. "Particularly those connected to her father. I believe her relationship with Mr. McKenna began long before our breakup, possibly even before she was of legal age."
The accusation sends murmurs rippling through the courtroom. My hands clench into fists, rage boiling beneath my carefully maintained composure. Beside me, Sawyer places a warning hand on my arm, a silent reminder to stay calm.
Rebecca rises smoothly, her expression one of professional disdain. "Your Honor, this is a serious accusation. Does Mr. Cooper have any evidence to support such a claim?"
Cooper's attorney shifts uncomfortably. "We have witness statements suggesting Ms. Hart and Mr. McKenna were unusually close during her teenage years."
"Define 'unusually close,'" Judge Matthews interjects, her piercing gaze fixed on Cooper's attorney.
"Frequent visits to his property. Private hunting and fishing lessons. Time spent alone together in remote areas."
Rebecca smiles, the expression reminiscent of a predator scenting blood. "Your Honor, Elias McKenna was Ms. Hart's father's best friend and served as her emergency contact throughout her high school years with her father's full knowledge and approval. If Mr. Cooper wishes to suggest something inappropriate occurred during that time, he should present actual evidence rather than innuendo."
The judge nods, clearly unimpressed by Cooper's tactics. "Agreed. Unless you have specific evidence of impropriety, counselor, I suggest you move on."
