Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 57

Mark walked into the lounge in full golf gear, looking regal and, as usual, handsome. He placed his golf club on the floor by the door, shut it behind him, and greeted Judge Calloway with a warm smile.

"Judge Calloway, what a pleasure to have you interrupt my golfing session. This must mean the meeting is incredibly important," he said, walking to the bar and picking up a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

"This one's rare," he added, referring to the whiskey. He poured a small amount into both glasses before taking his seat. "So, tell me—why are you here? I thought you hated being anywhere near a golf course. Or have you changed your mind?"

"This isn't about golf," Judge Calloway replied sternly. "I'm here to return your money."

Mark was silent for a moment, staring at the floor before looking up at the judge and letting out a calm, amused laugh.

"Oh, come on. We both know you're not serious..."

But Judge Calloway didn't smile. He simply stared at Mark with unwavering seriousness.

"I mean it," he said, placing the suitcase on the table. "It's not worth it. I'm resuming the case."

Mark slowly licked his upper teeth as he studied the judge. "Is that lawyer of hers pressuring you?"

"It's not about that, Mr. Smith. I'm a man of honor. I can't allow myself to be part of this."

"It was a gift. You accepted it. I'm not taking it back."

"No," Judge Calloway replied, pushing the suitcase forward. "Thank you for your concern, but I believe this money would be better used to help the vulnerable."

Mark chuckled and leaned in closer. "Do you know how many charities I donate to in a single year, Your Honor?"

"I cannot accept the money," Judge Calloway said, though his voice wavered slightly. "I'll be calling off the adjournment and resuming the case. If you're truly innocent, you'll come out of it clean and unscathed."

Mark bit his lower lip, staring at the judge. "I'm not taking that money back. You accepted it. You're stuck with it."

"I'll leave it here," Calloway said, carefully rising from his chair and using the table for support.

"You don't get to do that. Take the money."

"I refuse," Calloway answered firmly.

"This is exactly why poor people stay poor and miserable," Mark muttered, glaring at the suitcase.

"I will not allow you to insult me, Mr. Smith."

"You insulted yourself by accepting my money in the first place. Ridiculous. I'm sure that whore Emily's been screwing you, and that's why you're calling it off. You want to rule in her favor."

Judge Calloway was silent for a long moment before finally speaking.

"Goodbye, Mr. Smith."

He walked out.

Mark gripped his hair in frustration and hurled the suitcase across the room. Then he continued tearing the room apart, overcome by rage.

****

Mark slammed his hand on John's desk. John sat still, arms crossed, watching him calmly.

"I want to give her a piece of my mind," Mark growled. "But those wires—those damn wires she's always wearing—they're holding me back. She's such a scaredy-cat, can't even move without them."

John sighed. "So, what is it you want to do to her so badly that you're waiting for her to be without them?"

"She lied to me. Said she lost our child. When did Emily ever lose a child? That woman took pills religiously to avoid pregnancy. She aborted every child we could've had—and now she wants to guilt-trip me, calling it our child. She's definitely lying," he said, folding his arms and looking away, disgusted.