The courtroom was hushed as Thomas cleared his throat. «Your Honour, I withdraw my financial claim against the defendant,» he said quietly. A murmur of confusion rippled through the gallery.
The judge, unflappable after decades on the bench, arched an eyebrow.
«Mr. Whitmore, you understand this decision wont affect sentencing but forfeits your right to compensation?»
«I do.»
Across the room, Katherinethough young, addressed with formal deference by colleagues as «Miss Edwards»continued typing without pause. Five years as a court clerk had hardened her to human folly. She recorded it all with mechanical precision: the greed, the pettiness, the desperate lies. The courtroom was her train, and every day, she steered it through the wreckage of other people’s lives.
The case against Lydia H. was tabloid fodderyet another romance scam. Four men, never meeting her in person, had sent thousands via online transfers. None made it to a first date. One was told her family had been in a car crash; another that her ex-husband was stripping her bare in divorce; a third spun a tale about a sick child.
«Nothing new,» Katherine thought, assembling the files. Four grown men, seemingly successful, had cast themselves as knights in shining armour, believing money could buy love. Instead, theyd been swindled by a married mother of three.
Now, the courtroom held them all: the defendant, the plaintiffs. Three were coiled springs of rage, demanding restitution, their words laced with venom. They werent wrong. The law was on their side. Katherines pen moved automatically: *emotional distress, fraudulent misrepresentation, intent to deceive.*
Then there was Thomas Whitmore. He sat apart, posture devoid of anger or pity. When he renounced his claim, the room stilled. One of the other men spun around.
«Have you lost your mind? She played you like the rest of us! That money probably bought her husband a new phone!»
Thomas met his gaze with quiet sorrow. «I know. But she has three children. Let the money go to them. I dont need it back.»
Katherine looked up, startled. Generosity was rare in these walls. She studied his handsa welders, calloused and steadyand his eyes, weary but unhardened. In a world where everyone fought for scraps, hed simply let go.
After the hearing, a defence solicitor shook his head. «That fourth ones a proper romantic. Naive as a lamb.»
Katherine, usually silent, countered, «Its not naivety. Its strength. The kind money cant buy.»
The room fell silent. Colleagues exchanged glancessince when did «Iron Kate» speak up? Even she was surprised.
In the following sessions, she caught herself watching him. The way he listened without interrupting, his gaze drifting to the rain-streaked windows as if searching for answers in the clouds.
On the final day, as the verdict was read, Thomas lingered in the corridor, disoriented. Katherine stepped out.
«Which way are you headed?» she asked, tone clipped.
«Nowhere in particular,» he smiled. «Got turned around in these halls.»
«Exits that way.» She nodded.
«Ta.»
He took a few steps before she called after him.
«Thomas?»
He turned, surprised.
«You were right,» she said, voice softening. «About the children. That was decent of you.»
He studied her. «Katherine»
«Kate,» she offered.
«Kate. People rarely choose kindness in places like this. Thank you for noticing.»
He left. She watched him go, realizing, with a jolt, that her long-dormant heart had quickened.
Then came the rain. A downpour lashed London just as Thomas stepped outside. He hesitated under the awning, weighing a sprint to the bus stop.
A voice spoke behind him.
«Weve a ‘government-issue’ umbrella here. Meant for documents, but I reckon itll do for a decent bloke.»
Kate held out a black brolly, her expression unreadable.
«Dont want to keep you,» he said.
«My shifts over. Im walking to the park. If youre headed that way»
They walked in comfortable silence, shoulders nearly brushing.
«You always defend plaintiffs like that?» he finally asked.
«Never,» she admitted. «Youre the first who didnt play by logic. It got to me.»
«Suppose thats daft.»
«Its rare. And rare things matter.»
At the park, the rain eased to a drizzle.
«Fancy a walk?» Thomas asked. «If youve time.»
Kate hesitated*breach of protocol, Miss Edwards*then nodded. He stared at the clearing sky, and she let him gather his thoughts.
«First time this happened,» he said abruptly. «People usually think Im odd.»
«Because you didnt turn bitter,» she murmured. «Nowadays, thats eccentric.»
He met her eyes. «And you? Do I seem eccentric?»
«I think youre real. In my line of work, thats priceless.»
A pause. Then:
«Want to know why?» he asked. «Why I fell for it?»
She nodded.
He exhaled, gaze distant.
«It started at school. Her name was Lily. What I feltit wasnt just love. She was everything. Light, beauty, the impossible dream. We were *that* couple. Carried her books, danced at prom I thought itd last forever. Even convinced everyone else. We were the golden pair.»
His voice flattened. «Then she left. Prestigious uni in London, married a classmate. Sent me a postcard. Just three words: *Sorry. Its better.*»
He laughed humourlessly. «Everything stopped mattering. I didnt drink, didnt rage. Just went numb. Became a weldergood job for hiding behind a mask. Built walls around my heart, but inside? Still that daft boy who believed in one true love.»
His fingers tightened. «Then I saw *her* photo onlinethe scammer. Looked like Lily. But the caption *Still believe in love.* Pathetic, right? I messaged her. And she wrote back all the things Id ached to hear. Forever. Devotion. Something *real.* I ignored the red flags because I needed to believe the dream wasnt stupid. That it could exist.»
He met Kates eyes. «The trial didnt punish me. It freed me. Seeing that womanjust a scared, pitiful strangershattered the illusion. Lilys ghost finally left. The money? Payment for an exorcism. Pricey, but effective.»
He waited, braced for judgement. Instead, Kate covered his hand with hers. Warm. Steady.
«Thank you for telling me,» she said softly. «Youre not odd. Youre true to yourself.»
——
Kate wasnt called «Miss Edwards» for nothing. Stern, reserved, married to her workshed no time for personal affairs. When colleagues spotted her with Thomas (whod begun waiting for her after hours), whispers spread.
Judge Margaret Hayes, a woman whose glare could freeze a defendant mid-lie, broke the silence first:
«Well, colour me shocked. Thought Miss Edwards had a filing cabinet for a heart. Now shes sweet on our starry-eyed victim?»
Her colleague, Judge Nigel Carter, smirked. «Blokes a walking case study in *excessive gullibility*. Reckon shes reforming him?»
«Enough, Nigel,» Margaret chided, though her lips twitched. «Mans a hard worker. And what he did in court? Principle over pounds. Rare breed.»
In the break room, solicitor James Ellis threw up his hands. «Romance in a courthouse? Next theyll be serving tea with heart-shaped biscuits.»
Kates transformation was undeniable. She remained professional, but softer. A silver chain appeared at her neck. Sometimes, shed smile at her phone.
The office split into cynics and romantics.
The men joked darkly: «Place your betswhens the wedding? Theyll subpoena us as witnesses: *Yes, Your Honour, I saw the defendant steal the clerks heart.*»
The womenespecially the younger onessighed. «Its like a film! All stern and unapproachable, and hes this wounded, kind soul. And handsome!»
Accounts manager Brenda huffed. «Pipe down. Half you lot wouldnt know a decent man if he proposed with a ring and a warranty. Good on her.»
One morning, over coffee, Nigel couldnt resist.
«Miss Edwards, hows your *noble victim*? Filed any more charitable lawsuits?»
The room held its breath.
Kate sipped her tea, set it down, and fixed him with a look.
«Nigel, if youre *that* interested in closed cases, I can grant full archive access. Fancy revisiting case #3-452/18? Or #2-187/19? Plenty of *colourful* characters there.»
Nigel choked. He knewshed processed his own messy divorce.
«Nono, Kate! Just friendly concern.»
«How kind,» she said sweetly. «But my personal life isnt subject to judicial review. Yet.»
The teasing stopped. Respectful curiosity took its place. The final blow came when Thomas dropped her off in his modest but tidy sedan, straightening her coat collar with a tenderness that silenced even the skeptics.
That afternoon, Margaret pulled her aside.
«Kate hes good. I can tell. Hold onto him.»
No objection. No protocol. Just a quiet nod.
«I know.»
The gossip died. Colleagues understood: their unflappable clerk, keeper of order and records, had issued her own verdict*Pardoned. To love. To be happy.*
And it was final.
