Chapter 5 - The Glass Room
Three months later.
The sound of rain tapping against the high arched windows of Courtroom 402 was the only noise breaking the tense silence of the Cook County Judicial Center.
I sat in the witness box, wearing a dark navy maternity dress. My baby bump was full and prominent now—eight and a half months along, just weeks away from my due date. Beside the judge's bench sat Dr. Vance, who had testified earlier that morning regarding the forensic evidence of the assault.
Across the room, sitting at the defense table in orange prison jumpsuits, were Blythe and Calista.
Stripped of their designer clothes, jewelry, and manicured appearances, they looked hollowed out. Blythe’s hair was streak-gray, her eyes sunken and manic. Calista sat rigidly, staring at her lap, refusing to make eye contact with anyone—especially Julian, who sat in the front row of the gallery behind my legal team.
"Miss Marrow," the prosecutor, a sharp woman named Ms. Chen, said gently, standing at the podium. "Can you tell the court what happened on the afternoon of October 14th at your baby shower?"
I took a slow, deep breath, resting my hand on my stomach. I felt my daughter move inside me, a gentle reminder of why I was standing in that room.
"I was opening gifts," I began, my voice carrying clearly through the amplification system. "My mother came up to me. She told me that the only grandchild the family needed was from my sister. Then she struck me in the stomach."
Mutterings broke out in the gallery. The judge rapped his gavel once.
"And prior to that day, Miss Marrow," Ms. Chen continued, "had you ever agreed to act as a surrogate mother for your sister, Calista Vance, or her husband, Julian Vance?"
"Never," I said firmly. "I paid for my own fertility treatment using a private donor. I intended—and still intend—to raise my daughter as a single mother."
"Thank you. Your witness," Ms. Chen said, sitting down.
Blythe's defense attorney, a weary court-appointed lawyer, stood up slowly. He knew he had an impossible case. The physical evidence, the fourteen eyewitness accounts, the financial paper trail, and the forged documents were an airtight mountain of guilt.
"Miss Marrow," the attorney began softly. "Isn't it true that your mother was under immense emotional stress due to financial difficulties?"
"Objection," Ms. Chen stated calmly. "Financial stress is not a defense for assault or conspiracy to commit child abduction."
"Sustained," the judge ruled instantly. "Move along, Counselor."
The attorney sighed, looking at Blythe, who was glaring at me with raw, unfiltered hatred from the defense table. "No further questions."
"The defense may call its first witness," the judge instructed.
Calista’s attorney stood up. "We call Calista Vance to the stand."
A whisper swept through the courtroom as Calista was escorted to the witness box, her handcuffs clicking against the wooden railing. She took the oath in a faint, monotone voice.
"Mrs. Vance," her lawyer asked. "Can you explain to the jury why you forged your sister's signature on those surrogacy documents?"
Calista sat up straight, her eyes finally snapping to mine. For the first time in three months, I saw the true monster behind my sister's polished facade.
"Because she didn't deserve a baby," Calista said, her voice dripping with cold, unrepentant venom.
Gasps echoed through the gallery. Even her own attorney looked stunned.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Vance?" her lawyer stammered.
"Mara has always been nothing!" Calista sneered, her voice rising, shedding all pretense of innocence. "She lives in a tiny townhouse! She works freelance! She doesn't have a husband! I had the mansion! I had Julian! I had the money! I deserved a family, not her!"
"Calista, stop!" Blythe hissed from the defense table, but Calista was unravelling.
"I brought Julian the money!" Calista shrieked, pointing a finger at her estranged husband in the gallery. "I gave him everything! But he looked at her like she was special! My mother and I built a plan to fix it! Mara was just going to be an incubator! We were going to give her fifty thousand dollars after she delivered and tell her to go away!"
The judge was slamming his gavel repeatedly. "Order! Order in this court!"
"She took my husband! She took my life!" Calista screamed, thrashing against her restraints as two bailiffs stepped forward to hold her down. "She should have gotten rid of it! She ruined everything!"
I sat in the witness box, watching my sister lose her mind in front of a jury of twelve people.
I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel fear.
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I only felt a deep, overwhelming sense of pity for two women who had traded their humanity for greed, status, and envy—and had lost every single thing in the process.
"The jury will disregard the defendant's outburst," the judge said, his face dark with fury. "Remand the defendants back to custody. We will break for deliberation."
