The gavel struck once, sharp as thunder inside the chamber.
"All rise," the bailiff commanded.
The crowd obeyed. Amber Gatmaitan rose with them, her knees unsteady though she tried to hide the tremor. The wooden bench behind her groaned under the shifting weight of restless bodies. The morning sun had risen higher now, slicing through the tall windows in long golden beams that illuminated dust like tiny restless souls suspended in the air.
Judge Jennifer Capiña entered with her usual gravity, her black robe flowing as though it carried its own authority. She did not look left or right but walked straight to the bench. She placed her notes down, adjusted her glasses, and only then spoke.
"You may sit," the judge said.
The chamber exhaled as the benches filled once again. Amber remained upright a moment longer, her hands folded tightly before she let herself sit. Her breath trembled as it left her. She did not dare glance across the aisle, not yet.
But her body was already aware of him.
Harry Bolaños sat at the defense table, his wrists free of cuffs for the session though two guards hovered near. He leaned back in his chair with the composure of someone who had long mastered the art of appearing calm while the storm pressed upon him. His lawyer whispered something into his ear, but Harry's eyes were elsewhere. They found her.
Amber pressed her lips together and stared at the papers on her lap. She could feel the heat of his gaze like sunlight through glass, burning without touch.
The judge struck her gavel again. "Prosecution, you may proceed."
Atty. Nikolai Fortun rose, his navy suit catching the light. He had a presence that filled the chamber, not through volume but precision. Every movement was measured, every syllable sharpened to cut. He approached the witness stand where Amber sat, his eyes narrowing slightly as though gauging the strength of a blade before testing it.
"Miss Gatmaitan," Fortun began, "you remain under oath. You understand that your testimony is essential in helping this court arrive at the truth."
Amber nodded, her throat tight. "Yes, Your Honor. Yes, Counsel."
The prosecutor clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly before her. "Let us begin at the start. Tell the court how you first became aware of irregularities in the Corvida Group accounts."
Amber inhaled deeply. She steadied her voice, recalling the memory as if unrolling a scroll she had folded too many times. "I was conducting routine analysis on quarterly transactions. Several entries did not align with expected flows. Funds were moving through secondary channels that bypassed normal authorization."
Fortun leaned forward. "And what did you do upon discovering this?"
"I traced the entries. They led to accounts that had no legitimate purpose. When I asked colleagues, no one seemed to know. I overheard conversations that raised further suspicions."
"What conversations?"
Her heart thudded. She could feel the eyes of the room on her, but one pair of eyes mattered more than all the rest. She resisted the urge to turn toward Harry. "They spoke of moving funds quickly, of covering tracks. They mentioned a name. Mr. Bolaños."
The prosecutor's voice sharpened. "You are certain of this?"
"Yes," Amber said, though the word caught slightly in her throat.
The judge adjusted her glasses, her gaze steady. "Please continue, Counselor."
Fortun stepped closer to the jury box. "Members of the court, this is no minor witness. Miss Gatmaitan is a professional analyst, trained to notice what others ignore. She did not imagine these irregularities. She saw them. She heard them. And she connects them to the accused."
He turned back to Amber. "Tell us, Miss Gatmaitan, what was the exact phrase you overheard?"
Amber closed her eyes briefly, pulling the memory from the noise of her mind. "One man said, 'Harry knows how to move it without leaving traces.' Another replied, 'Then we trust Harry.'"
Gasps rippled faintly through the gallery. The judge lifted her hand for silence.
Fortun allowed the pause to linger before he asked, "And you reported this?"
"I did. To my immediate superior."
"Who was?"
Amber swallowed. "Annie Dalisay."
The name settled into the courtroom like a stone dropped into water. A ripple of tension spread. Annie Dalisay was already scheduled as a witness for the defense. The connection tightened the noose around everyone present.
Fortun's eyes glinted. "Interesting. And what was Ms. Dalisay's response?"
Amber hesitated. "She told me not to involve myself too deeply. She said it was beyond my concern."
"And yet you are here."
"Yes," Amber whispered.
The prosecutor straightened. "No further questions for now, Your Honor."
The judge nodded. "Defense may cross-examine."
Harry's lawyer rose, but before he could speak, Harry leaned forward and whispered something. The lawyer gave a subtle nod, then adjusted his tie.
"Miss Gatmaitan," the defense began smoothly, "you claim you overheard conversations implicating my client. Where exactly were you when this supposed conversation took place?"
Amber sat straighter. "In the hallway near the finance offices."
"So you were not in the room. You overheard from outside?"
"Yes."
"And could it be possible that you misheard? That the name was not Harry but another similar name?"
Amber's hands clenched in her lap. "I am certain of what I heard."
The lawyer raised a brow. "Even though you admit you were not part of the conversation, nor invited to hear it?"
Amber's pulse raced. "Yes."
The defense paced. "Tell me, Miss Gatmaitan, do you harbor any personal feelings toward Mr. Bolaños that could color your testimony?"
The question pierced her chest like a blade. She froze, her breath caught. For one wild moment, she thought he knew. He knew of the glance, of the unspoken tether that had begun the instant their eyes met.
"I... no," she managed.
"No admiration, no dislike, no personal entanglement whatsoever?"
Amber forced her voice steady. "None."
The defense lawyer studied her, but before he could press further, Harry's hand touched his sleeve lightly. The signal was subtle but clear. Enough.
The lawyer inclined his head. "No further questions at this time."
The judge scribbled notes. "The witness may remain seated until excused."
Amber's breath trembled as silence stretched. She risked it then. A single glance.
Harry was watching her, his eyes unflinching, dark as night water. There was no malice in them. Only a quiet recognition, as if he had heard her denial and knew it was not entirely true.
Amber's chest ached. She looked away, gripping the edge of the wooden stand until her knuckles turned white.
The gavel struck. "Court will recess for fifteen minutes," Judge Capiña declared.
The room erupted into motion. Reporters buzzed like flies at the edges. Guards shifted. Lawyers gathered their papers. Amber rose on shaky legs, moving toward the side exit where witnesses could breathe for a moment.
But Razel Ann del Prado was already waiting there, notebook in hand, eyes sharp with curiosity.
"Miss Gatmaitan," the journalist called, "you looked shaken up there. Tell me, is it difficult to testify against someone as charismatic as Harry Bolaños?"
Amber froze. Her lips parted, but no words came. Razel Ann's eyes gleamed.
"Silence is an answer too," the journalist said softly.
Amber pushed past her, heart hammering. She needed air. She needed distance. She stepped into the hallway where Ernie Cabello was waiting, his brows drawn with concern.
"Amber," he whispered urgently. "You look pale. Sit, please."
She shook her head, gripping his arm. "I am fine. I just need a moment."
Ernie searched her face. "You are not fine. I know you. You are carrying something heavier than testimony."
Amber closed her eyes, unable to reply. Behind her eyelids, Harry's gaze burned still.
The bailiff's voice echoed from the doorway. "All rise. Court resumes."
Amber straightened, pulling her composure around her like armor. She stepped back inside.
The trial was not finished. The weight of her words had only begun to press upon her.
And across the room, Harry Bolaños was waiting.
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