The courtroom had become a stage, and the players had multiplied. Anton Vasiliev’s testimony consumed three full days of the preliminary injunction hearing, and the gallery was packed for every minute of it.
The mighty tiger spoke steadily. He had built an empire only to lose it to his own son’s treachery, and just now methodically reclaiming it piece by piece.
He described the poisoning in detail. The gradual weakening, the bought doctors, the falsified diagnosis, the moment he had realized his own heir was killing him...
Judge Venn’s quill pen scratched across her legal pad without pause. The jury, those who weren’t bribed, who were still capable of being moved, leaned forward in their seats.
Arzhen sat at the defendant’s table and watched his father speak. His expression was unreadable and his tiger ears never moved. But his tail, curled around the leg of his chair, had gone completely still.
The Shield dispute, already volatile, detonated into chaos. Damon’s legal team filed an emergency motion to expand the scope of the injunction, arguing that Arzhen’s alleged attempted murder of a key witness, his own father, constituted a pattern of criminal behavior that rendered him unfit to hold any patent affecting public safety.
It was a brutal move, the kind of legal jiu-jitsu that Damon had perfected over years of navigating the Hunter Association’s treacherous political waters. But ’fair’, people argued.
Arzhen’s legal team fought back with everything they had. They filed counter-motions. They challenged the admissibility of Anton’s testimony.
But the cracks were showing. One of Arzhen’s junior attorneys resigned abruptly, citing "irreconcilable differences" in a statement that the press interpreted immediately.
Another was photographed leaving the Vasiliev headquarters with a box of personal belongings, his face pale and drawn.
Then came the rulings.
Judge Venn granted the expanded injunction in a tersely worded order that ran to forty-seven pages.
The Barrier patent, she ruled, would be placed in receivership pending the outcome of the full trial. An independent manufacturer, selected jointly by the Hunter Association and the court, would begin production within thirty days.
Arzhen Vasiliev was ordered to cooperate fully with the transition or face contempt charges. The order was a giant blow, and the courtroom erupted in a frenzy of tapping keyboards and whispered analysis.
But Damon wasn’t finished. The following week, the Association’s legal team filed a second motion. This one seeking to compel Arzhen’s personal financial records to dig out more and more illegal activities.
Judge Venn granted the motion in part, ordering a limited disclosure that would, Damon knew, open the door to much broader discovery.
The walls were closing in.
Two weeks had passed since Cecilia’s walk in the park with Arzhen.
She was now heavily pregnant, her due date looming closer than ever, her belly round, but not as round as if she was pregnant with any other creature.
She didn’t attended court sessions beyond what she already attended. She also no longer followed the legal maneuvers in real time.
But the news reached her anyway, filtering through Damon’s updates and Thalia’s reports and some background noises. It was a scandal that had consumed the city’s attention, after all.
The evening news led with it, as it had for days now.
"This is Kaela Brown reporting for Central News.
In a development today, the Central Commercial Court has granted the Hunter Association’s motion to place the Barrier patent in receivership, effectively stripping Arzhen Vasiliev of control over the technology his ex-wife, Professor Cecilia Araceli, developed before and during their marriage.
The ruling comes in the wake of ’explosive’ testimony from Anton Vasiliev, the defendant’s father, who has accused his son of attempted murder in a separate civil suit.
Legal analysts are calling today’s decision a turning point in what has become one of the most closely watched commercial disputes in recent history.
When reached for comment, a spokesperson for the Vasiliev Corporation stated only that they intend to appeal.
Meanwhile, Hunter Association Director Damon Iondora issued a brief statement praising the court’s decision as ’a victory for public safety and the rule of law.’
We’ll have more on this developing story after the break."
Cecilia turned off the television.
The notification for Rank 3’s task "Take Revenge on CEO Husband" still hadn’t come.
Cecilia sat alone in the living room, her phone dark on the coffee table, her hands resting on the immense curve of her belly. The due date was so close now that every hour felt borrowed, every breath a negotiation with the life growing inside her.
She had done everything the scenario asked of her. She had faced Arzhen in court. She had watched his empire crumble. She had stood in a park and told him he had never had power over her, and she had meant it with every fiber of her being.
And yet the reward requirement remained silent. She wondered how far she had to take it until the notification finally came. Whether she truly had to kill Arzhen by her own hand after all.
And that wasn’t all that clouded her mind.
The files Arzhen had given her...
Beep—beep—
Beeps?
The apartment door clicked open. She heard the soft thump of shoes being removed, the rustle of a jacket being hung, and then she saw Eastiel’s manbun bobbing up and down as he moved past the shoe rack toward the living room.
"I thought you were busy attacking the Delanivis family and wouldn’t be home forever." Cecilia humphed, crossing her arms over her belly with as much indignation as her pregnant frame could muster.
The manbun froze mid-bob.
Eastiel emerged into the living room with his head hanging low, his lion ears drooping and his tail dragging behind him.
He looked exhausted, dark circles under his golden eyes, his usually immaculate hair escaping its bun in wispy strands, but it was the guilt on his face that caught her attention.
"They’re trying to take away some rights over producing your Shield before the court ruling, after all." He sounded defensive, knowing he was making excuses and couldn’t stop himself. "And... they’re also stealing your working theory about human purely unassisted magic from our research facility..."
"That’s all?" Cecilia’s voice was sharper than she intended. "Still mad at me?"
"I’m not mad at you!" Eastiel dropped to his knees in front of the sofa, his hands gripping the cushion on either side of her legs. His golden eyes were desperate. "I’m... I’m just... scared that all of this... will be over... because Oathran’s not here anymore. Because without him... maybe you won’t like me as much..."
"Who said that?! You! I never said that!" Cecilia spat, her own eyes blazing.
"Auughhh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry~" Eastiel pressed his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lion ears flat against his head. "Princess, just forgive me? Forgive me, ah?"
Cecilia looked down at him. Her lashes were wet now, catching the evening light as tears began to gather. "You just don’t know how far I’ll go for you... Just because you’re the only one who never made me cry, you think I can’t cry for you?"
Eastiel’s expression crumbled. He reached for her hands, his fingers trembling as they wrapped around hers. "Cecilia..."