The gallery emptied slowly, the selected jurors filing out with military precision that echoed their likely verdicts. Roma’s team gathered their materials with the quiet confidence of those who knew they’d won the first major battle.

Roma himself paused briefly near their table, his limp more pronounced after hours of standing. “Fascinating process, isn’t it?” he offered quietly. “How all the little details add up to paint the bigger picture.” His eyes caught hers with daring precision. “Though I suppose you’d know all about painting, wouldn’t you, Ms. Valenca? Some of us prefer oils and canvas, others…” he gestured subtly toward the now-empty jury box, his smile sharpening, “…prefer to work with different mediums entirely.”

The clicking of her heels against marble felt hollow, echoing the voids in the thinset beneath the polished slabs… as they left the courtroom, each step echoing with the weight of strategic defeat. The holiday decorations in the lobby blurred as they passed, their festive cheer a dramatic contrast to the morning’s professional decimation.