The gavel struck once.
“All rise.”
The crowd obeyed, the scrape of benches echoing through the chamber. Judge Jennifer Capiña reentered and took her seat, her expression neutral yet heavy with authority.
“You may sit,” she said.
Amber Gatmaitan lowered herself back into the witness chair. Her palms rested against her skirt, clammy, trembling just enough for her to press them harder into the fabric. She tried not to look across the courtroom, but the magnetic presence of Harry Bolaños lingered in her periphery, a pull she resisted with all her will.
Judge Capiña adjusted her glasses and turned toward the defense. “Counsel, you may continue with your cross-examination.”
Harry’s defense attorney rose. A tall man with clipped hair, his movements deliberate, his voice calm but edged with steel. He carried no notes, only a pen between his fingers, tapping it once against his palm before he began.
“Miss Gatmaitan,” he said, stepping closer to the witness stand, “I would like to return to the statements you claim to have overheard in the hallway of the Corvida Group offices.”
Amber straightened. “Yes.”
“You testified under oath that you heard Mr. Bolaños’s name mentioned directly.”
“Yes.”
“And you are certain of this.”
“Yes.”
The defense attorney paced slowly, looking neither at Amber nor the judge, but letting his voice travel across the gallery. “Could you repeat for the record the exact words you claim you heard.”
Amber’s lips pressed together before she answered. “One man said, ‘Harry knows how to move it without leaving traces.’ The other replied, ‘Then we trust Harry.’”
The attorney nodded. “Now, Miss Gatmaitan, you were in a hallway. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“You were outside a closed office door.”
“The door was slightly open.”
“Was it fully open or slightly open.”
“Only slightly.”
“So you did not see who was speaking.”
“No.”
“You did not observe their mouths forming the words.”
“No.”
“Then you relied entirely on sound. Is that correct.”
“Yes.”
The defense attorney leaned forward on the podium. “How many voices did you hear.”
“Two.”
“Male or female.”
“Both were male.”
“Did you recognize either voice.”
Amber hesitated. “No.”
“So to be clear, you did not see the speakers. You did not know them. You did not recognize their voices. You only overheard words through a partly open door in a hallway. Is that your testimony.”
“Yes.”
The defense attorney turned slightly toward the jury box. “Now, Miss Gatmaitan, are you familiar with how sound travels in corridors.”
Amber blinked. “Somewhat.”
“It can distort, can it not. It can bounce against walls, blend with other sounds, cause words to blur.”
“Yes, sometimes.”
The attorney nodded slowly. “So is it possible you misheard. That the word was not ‘Harry’ but perhaps something similar. Perhaps ‘carry.’ Perhaps ‘Marry.’ Perhaps any number of words that sound alike when muffled through a partly open door.”
Amber’s breath caught, but her voice remained steady. “I know what I heard.”
The attorney tapped his pen lightly against the podium. “You know what you believe you heard. That is different.”
“Objection.”
Atty. Nikolai Fortun’s voice cut sharp. He stood abruptly, his suit crisp, his expression pointed. “Counsel is arguing with the witness. He is twisting her words rather than eliciting testimony.”
Judge Capiña raised her hand. “Sustained. Defense will rephrase.”
The defense attorney inclined his head. “Of course, Your Honor.” He returned his gaze to Amber. “Miss Gatmaitan, my question is simple. Is it possible you misheard the name.”
Amber’s heart thundered. She wanted to scream no, to drive the certainty into stone. Yet her mouth opened slowly. “I… it is possible. But I am sure I heard Harry.”
The defense seized upon the first part of her reply. “So you admit there is a possibility of error.”
Amber’s throat tightened. “A very small possibility.”
“Thank you. That will be noted.”
Fortun shot up again. “Objection. Counsel is mischaracterizing the witness’s testimony. She said she was certain, not unsure.”
Judge Capiña regarded both men. “The record will reflect the full answer. Proceed.”
The defense attorney moved closer. “Miss Gatmaitan, let us speak of your own position within Corvida Group. You were an analyst, correct.”
“Yes.”
“And not a senior executive.”
“No.”
“Not part of the board.”
“No.”
“You did not personally authorize or control large financial transfers.”
“No.”
“Your job was primarily to review data that was provided to you.”
“Yes.”
“So you relied on what you were given. You could not possibly see the entire structure of company transactions. Correct.”
Amber gripped the arm of the witness chair. “Correct.”
The attorney nodded, then let silence hang. He circled slightly, standing now at an angle where Amber could not help but see Harry sitting quietly at the defense table. His posture was still, his gaze lowered, but Amber felt the pull regardless.
The attorney continued. “Miss Gatmaitan, you reported your concerns to Annie Dalisay, correct.”
“Yes.”
“And she discouraged you from pursuing them further.”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever tell you that Mr. Bolaños was involved.”
“No.”
“Did she ever mention his name in connection with irregularities.”
“No.”
“So the only connection you have made is through a conversation you overheard but did not see, spoken by men you did not know, voices you did not recognize, through a door not fully open, words that may have been distorted.”
Amber’s chest constricted. “I… yes, but—”
The attorney cut her off. “Thank you. That will be sufficient for now.”
“Objection.” Fortun stepped forward again. “Counsel is badgering the witness by reducing her testimony to fragments. She has the right to explain.”
“Sustained,” said Judge Capiña firmly. “The witness may complete her answer.”
Amber’s voice trembled but grew steady. “Yes, the circumstances were not perfect. But I know what I heard. I would not be here if I doubted it.”
The defense attorney studied her for a long moment. “Very well. Let us address another matter. Miss Gatmaitan, how do you feel about my client.”
Amber’s breath hitched. “What do you mean.”
“Do you like him. Do you admire him. Do you feel any personal sympathy for him.”
“Objection,” Fortun snapped. “Relevance.”
The defense held his ground. “Your Honor, the credibility of a witness may be influenced by bias or sentiment. The jury is entitled to know if personal feelings exist.”
Judge Capiña hesitated, then nodded. “Overruled. The witness will answer.”
Amber’s heart pounded against her ribs. She forced her voice level. “I do not know him personally. I have no feelings that would affect my testimony.”
The defense attorney’s brow arched. “No feelings whatsoever. Positive or negative.”
Amber steadied herself, though her fingers dug into the wood of the chair. “None.”
The attorney studied her face carefully, then gave a small smile. “No further questions at this time.”
The courtroom stirred, whispers rising, reporters’ pens scratching furiously. Razel Ann del Prado leaned forward, eyes gleaming with suspicion as she jotted notes.
Judge Capiña turned to the prosecution. “Redirect.”
Fortun stepped forward, his presence like a blade drawn. “Miss Gatmaitan, you were asked whether you misheard. Please tell the court again: what name did you hear.”
Amber’s throat ached, but her voice rang clearer than she expected. “Harry.”
“Did you invent this name.”
“No.”
“Did you imagine it.”
“No.”
“Did anyone pressure you to say it.”
“No.”
Fortun turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, this witness has nothing to gain by testifying. She could have remained silent, avoided scrutiny, spared herself intimidation. Instead she stands here, unwavering, because the truth demands it.” He turned back. “Miss Gatmaitan, do you regret coming forward.”
Amber blinked against the heat in her eyes. “No. Even if it costs me, I will not regret telling the truth.”
Fortun nodded sharply. “No further questions.”
Judge Capiña lifted her gaze. “The witness may step down.”
Amber exhaled shakily. She rose from the stand, her legs trembling beneath her. The courtroom seemed to tilt as she descended the steps. She felt every stare: jurors assessing, reporters devouring, strangers whispering. Ernie Cabello caught her at the side door, gripping her arm gently.
“You held strong,” he whispered.
Amber barely heard him. Her gaze flicked once, dangerously, toward the defense table. Harry Bolaños was watching her. His eyes held no accusation, no fear, only something unreadable that froze her steps.
She tore her gaze away and let Ernie guide her out. The gavel struck behind her, calling the next order of business. But the echo in her chest was not the gavel’s strike. It was Harry’s eyes, locked upon hers, silently binding her to a fate she had not chosen.
And she knew, beneath the oath of truth and the weight of testimony, that some secrets were deeper than words.
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and then Add to home screen.