You don't belong in a high-end historical building like this, my landlord’s fiancée, Vanessa Crawford, sneered as she dumped a glass of $350 Moët & Chandon champagne directly over my head.
The Fulton County Housing Court buzzed with a muted urgency. Lawyers whispered, clerks shuffled papers, and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale coffee and anxiety. I sat beside my court-appointed legal aid attorney, Mr. Davies, his face already etched with defeat.
Magistrate Raymond Blevins, a man whose stern gaze seemed to absorb all light in the room, called Brandon’s petition.
“Gaines versus Dubois,” he announced, his voice booming slightly in the small courtroom.
Brandon and his corporate attorney, a sharp-suited woman named Ms. Albright, sat at the opposing table. Brandon refused to meet my gaze.
Mr. Davies leaned closer. “This is bad, Maya. They’ve got photographs of water damage, testimony from a contractor. It’s a lot to fight.”
“But it’s not true,” I whispered back.
Magistrate Blevins reviewed the documents laid before him. “Mr. Gaines alleges that on October 14th, at approximately 2:15 PM, Ms. Dubois deliberately opened the historic second-floor water main, causing substantial damage.”
He tapped a pen on the stack of papers. “$85,000 in alleged mahogany floor damage.”
Mr. Davies shifted in his seat. “Your Honor, Ms. Dubois denies all allegations. She has no knowledge of any such event.”
“Your Honor,” Ms. Albright interjected smoothly, “my client has submitted sworn affidavits from maintenance staff confirming the damage timeline and a forensic report detailing the water’s origin point.”
She gestured toward me. “The evidence is quite clear that Ms. Dubois was the only tenant present in that specific section of the building during the incident.”
Mr. Davies turned to me, his voice low. “Maya, I know this is hard, but a cash settlement to leave quietly might be your best option. We can try to negotiate a small relocation fee.”
My stomach clenched. Leave? After everything?
Magistrate Blevins held up a hand, silencing Ms. Albright. His gaze swept over the documents again, then landed on Brandon.
“Mr. Gaines,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Your forensic report states the damage was discovered on October 15th, but the incident is pinpointed to October 14th. This timeline has some discrepancies.”
Brandon’s face remained impassive.
“I am ordering mandatory closed-door mediation,” Judge Blevins declared. “Seven days from today.”
He fixed his gaze on Brandon’s attorney. “Mr. Gaines will submit sworn affidavits and physical maintenance records proving Ms. Dubois’s presence on the property during the alleged time of sabotage, October 14th, at 2:15 PM.”
A quiet gasp escaped my lips. Seven days. Physical proof.
This wasn’t over. Not yet.
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