Noah sat in the third row of the many rows of seats in the large courthouse, his body vibrating with anger.
His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists so tight that his nails bit into his palms, drawing blood he couldn't feel. His heart felt like a leaden weight swinging in his chest, heavy with a poisonous mixture of betrayal and blinding rage.
He had done exactly what she asked.
He had come early. He had secured the best seats in the house, a perfect vantage point for them to watch her triumph together.
He had been prepared to wave, to beckon her over with the warmth of a man who owned the woman of the hour. But as the heavy doors of the courtroom swung open, the sight that met him paralyzed his arm.
Gianna didn't scan the room for him. She didn't even glance toward the row he had meticulously guarded. Worse, she swept into the room flanked by Mason and Olive—a sight so offensive it made the bile rise in Noah's throat.
What is going on? Did she forget?
