Nausea filled her at the unfairness of it all. The truth was, as Jon did his best to counter, the woman couldn’t possibly remember Madison with all the other kids in and out of the system over the years. She was relying on a folder of printed information that included none of the underlying circumstances or Madison’s truths.
As a social worker herself, she understood how little time most put into keeping up-to-date records. She’d struggled day and night to keep up with the caseload when she’d worked with abused women, and paperwork was done in between visits with victims. More than once, Jonathan rose and objected to the other lawyer’s insinuations or attempts to discredit Madison, questioning the reasons for the character assassination. He offered an excuse of laying groundwork, and the judge agreed to humor him a little while longer.
The morning marched on with more of the same, and Madison was beyond embarrassed that Alex had to hear her sordid youth, which she never discussed and preferred not to remember.
“Your Honor!” Jonathan rose again, his voice filled with frustration. “Is there a point to this? It’s up to Mr. Grayson to prove his claims that Ms. Evans used undue influence to gain access to her foster mother’s power of attorney. So far I’ve heard nothing of the sort.”
“Good point, Mr. Ridgeway.” His Honor, Judge Collins, a kindly looking, balding older man, turned to Eric’s attorney. “Mr. Newcomb?”
“Just laying the foundation, Your Honor,” he repeated in a sickeningly placating tone. “But we’re happy to move on. We’d like to call Madison Evans to the stand.”
Her stomach cramped, but she’d been prepped for this moment, something Jonathan leaned close and reminded her. Alex placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, but she couldn’t focus on him now. She couldn’t even look at him.
Rising, she walked to the small witness box and took her seat.
Alex took in the stiff set of Madison’s shoulders and the way she wouldn’t glance his way or meet his gaze so he could offer reassurance. He leaned forward in his seat, every muscle in his body tense and prepared to strike. Not that he could do a damned thing but sit and watch. There was nothing he hated more than feeling utterly useless when she needed him.
More than once this morning, he regretted not putting his personal feelings aside and staying with her last night. Once more in his life, he’d let ego get in the way of common, rational sense.
After some preliminary easy questions, her step-brother’s lawyer went for stabbingly painful questions. “How many foster homes were you in, Ms. Evans?”
“Five or six.”
“Actually, it was seven.”
“It’s not something I like to remember.”
“No, I suppose not, given that nobody wanted to keep you.”
“Your Honor,” Jonathan said, rising.
They’d been advised that since this was a hearing and not a trial, formal objections wouldn’t apply.
“Move it along, Mr. Newcomb. All this has already been established and is in the records.”
The other lawyer nodded. “Then you ended up with the Graysons, and things changed for you.”
Since it wasn’t a question, Madison didn’t answer. Good girl, Alex thought.
“Were you told why the Graysons, who were an unusual type of foster family in that they didn’t need the money provided by the state for your care, wanted to take you in?”
Madison nodded. “Franny couldn’t have kids after Eric, and she’d always wanted a daughter.”
“And they had money,” the bastard lawyer said.
Again, no question, and Madison merely stared at him.
“Were you and Mrs. Grayson close?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“She took you shopping, bought you clothes?”
“Yes.”
He rested an elbow on the witness stand. “And you had your own room, unlike your last six … no, make that seven foster homes, correct?”
“Yes.”
Alex saw the tension, the toll this was taking on her. His hands were fists at his sides.
“Had you brought any clothes with you from the home before?” the man asked.
“A few.”
“Personal things?” he clipped out.
“I didn’t have any,” she said softly, her jaw trembling along with her voice.
Alex gripped the stainless bar that separated him from Jonathan, leaned forward, and whispered, “Do something or I will.”
“Shh. I can’t and you know it. This has to play out.”
Alex bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw aching from the effort of clenching his teeth to keep quiet.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Ridgeway?” the judge asked.
Jonathan partially rose. “No, Your Honor.” He lowered himself back into his seat.
“So after your mother took off and your father abandoned you in a shopping mall,” the other attorney asked as he paced in front of Madison, “after seven unsuccessful foster placements, you landed with the Graysons. In a big house in a wealthy neighborhood, in the best school district for miles. You were bought new clothes, given your own room… Be honest, Ms. Evans. You saw the gold pot at the end of the rainbow, didn’t you? An easy target in an older woman who couldn’t have more children, who wanted a daughter … You knew it would be better to suck up to her than to cause trouble like you had in your other homes, isn’t that right?”
Madison’s jaw worked back and forth before answering. “No. I loved Franny.”
She folded her arms across her chest, a protective gesture Alex knew well. He also knew how hard it was for her to admit to those feelings, and it took all his willpower not to launch across the room and drag her into his arms and out of there.
But the lawyer wasn’t finished demolishing her pride. “Mr. Grayson testified you were always spending time with his mother when you weren’t in school. Sucking up to her, putting thoughts in her head as you got older about how much better you’d treat her than her own son when she got sick. From there, it wasn’t difficult to assume Daniel Grayson would include you in his will. And ultimately, you gained Franny’s power of attorney, where you could put her in a home, sell her house from beneath her, and put the proceeds toward a rec center.”
“That Franny wanted! She wasn’t interested in destroying the land with overdevelopment. Eric, you know this. You know your mother better than that.”
“You lying bitch!”