Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows Chapter 14: Trials & Tribulations P VIII, a guiding light fanfic

Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

Author: Kimberly21570

Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children

Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca

Disclaimer and other assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, Phillip and Alan Spaulding, and Frank Cooper are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The character Lena Kundera is owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney and Prospect Park.

No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC/Disney, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in this scene are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.

I certainly don't claim to be an attorney, and I know virtually nothing about how legal proceedings transpire, especially in family court, so let's just pretend the events in this update are possible. We'll call it taking creative liberties with the justice system, okay? LOL

Thank you to all who continue to read and/or comment. Every single time I post an update, you all shower me with so much lovely feedback, and I could not appreciate you more. Thank you. And thank you, always, to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. You're awesome, in so many ways, and I appreciate you more than you know.

Rating: Chapter 14 is rated NC-17 for some sexual situations and strong language; however, I think this particular update is safely rated PG.

Okay, so we're off to court with Jen and Tracy. Hope y'all enjoy!

Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."

— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)

"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."

— Unknown

Chapter 14.8 – Trials and Tribulations:

Wednesday, June 17, 2009… The Springfield Courthouse—9:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time

The Wednesday after next brought with it another command appearance at the Springfield Courthouse—this time for a preliminary hearing regarding the custody of Jen and Tracy's boys. The purpose of the hearing was to determine whether or not there was any evidence to support Preston Morgan's claim that Jen was an unfit parent. There was none. But the narcissistic old bastard didn't play by anyone's rules but his own.

Initially, Grayson had stalled the proceedings, gaining them all enough time to set plans in motion. Plans for what, he hadn't asked—plausible deniability. All he knew was that there had been an extended lag in terms of movement in the case, allowing him ample time to perfect his defense. And now that things were in motion again, he was more than prepared for the fight.

Doris Wolfe had done as promised, somehow managing to get the case covertly reassigned to a judge who was LGBT-friendly. No one asked how, and she hadn't shared. And once Olivia and Lena had everything in place for a takeover at Morgan Financial, Phillip had called in some favors on Jen's behalf, getting the hearing moved forward so that they wouldn't be left in limbo over the summer. Grayson could have managed that, but that posed an opportunity to raise opposing counsel's suspicions, given his earlier stall tactics. As such, he was grateful for Phillip's assistance, and found himself unexpectedly indebted to the Spaulding heir. He wasn't certain how comfortable he was with that, given Olivia's vehement distrust of the man, but desperate times lead to desperate measures, he supposed.

There wasn't a shred of doubt in Phillip's mind that Jake Morgan's sons would remain in the custody of their mother and her partner, as he sat in the gallery behind them—a tangible show of emotional support. Just like Olivia and Natalia, who sat beside him. But just in case things turned ugly, Olivia and Lena were poised to pull the financial rug out from under Preston Morgan before he even saw it coming.

Olivia squirmed next to Phillip, unsettled in her very core by the mere presence of him. She still didn't trust him any further than she could throw him when it came to Emma; and old friend of Jake Morgan or not, she was equally as wary as to what ulterior motives might be driving his pressing need to help in this situation.

A part of Natalia couldn't really blame her for distrusting him where Emma was concerned. But she was beginning to believe he truly did have the best interests of Jen and Tracy and their boys, at heart. He had even offered to help with Rafe, if she thought that might be beneficial. She thanked him, and told him she would consider it, though she knew even if she objected, both he and Rafe were free to do as they pleased. They were both adults, and she had no real recourse in the matter. What she didn't know was that Phillip would respect her wishes, regardless. He knew, only too well, how painful it was to watch a family member disregard your wishes when it came to your own children. Alan had been a master at that Phillip's entire life, and he had fallen into that trap when he tried to steal his children away from their mothers. He had vowed never to behave that way again, even if it meant never seeing Emma until she was old enough to make her own decisions.

Despite Phillip's reassurances, Jen and Tracy lacked his confidence in a favorable outcome. Preston Morgan was accustomed to getting what he wanted, and though they spoke positively about the proceedings, they shared the unspoken fear that things might not bode well for them, regardless of their attorney's stellar track record in family court, or the rumored proclivities of the presiding judge.

Calm and collected, Grayson McAlister sat next to Jen and Tracy at the respondent's table, casually thumbing through his case file one final time before the Judge's arrival. He knew the file forward and backward, and could have recited it verbatim, but he had found over his years of practice that sitting back and relaxing in front of a client at this particular juncture never evoked confidence in them, only anxiety. Thus, his practice was to give them the impression that he was meticulously fine-tuning their case right down to the wire, leaving no stone unturned.

Given the change in judges, he felt confident that this preliminary hearing would be the only hearing necessary—that the judge would throw Morgan's case out for lack of cause. If nothing else, he was absolutely certain that the boys would remain with their mother, pending any additional court-ordered assessment or court proceedings.

For the fourth time in as many minutes, Jen checked her wristwatch, and then self-consciously adjusted the collar on her charcoal gray suit jacket, with fidgety fingers. And then she sighed, as she allowed her hand to drop back into her lap. Her left leg bounced, almost uncontrollably, and Preston Morgan's impervious glare turned into a knowing smirk. He got off on the knowledge that he had her shaking in her boots.

Attempting to ease her fiancée's anxiety, Tracy reached over, taking her hand. Their fingers instinctively intertwined, and Tracy's thumb lightly stroked the underside of Jen's engagement ring—a subtle reminder of her sacred commitment. And then a gentle squeeze was accompanied by an encouraging smile, and Jen felt infinitely blessed to have found such a supportive partner.

Preston recoiled at the open show of affection between the two women, and then scowled at them from across the courtroom. How dare they touch one another so brazenly! He wished the judge had been there to see that. What kind of environment was that for two young, impressionable boys? No, they should be with him—he could teach them how to be men.

Leaning forward, Olivia squeezed Jen's shoulder—a tangible show of support. And Jen reached back, lightly touching Olivia's hand in acknowledgement. That only served to infuriate Preston more. Was she fucking two women now? What a whore.

Jacqueline Morgan, who sat in the gallery several feet behind her husband, swept an elegant hand through her thick, dark hair. It was shorter than Jen remembered, but still as black as night—just like Jake's; though where his was full of curls when it wasn't purposely tamed, hers held merely a hint of waviness. The woman always exuded an air of quiet sophistication, and her face never wore less than a warm, welcoming smile. But there was always a hint of sadness in those dark eyes that so reminded her of Jake.

Jen had wondered about that on many occasions, but never found the courage to ask. And Jacqueline would certainly never make mention of any private matters. Despite the ever-present sadness, even now, with her husband's disapproving glare, Jacqueline allowed the slightest hint of a smile touch her lips as she watched the interaction between the two women and their friends. She hated what Preston was trying to do. But she wouldn't dare contradict him. She knew the consequences if she did.

Beside Olivia, Natalia's thoughts drifted, her only awareness, the ticking of the clock. It was a different courtroom, on the other side of the massive Sangamon County Civil Complex, but that incessant ticking was the same. Her mind was lost in thoughts of what might happen if Frank ever decided to challenge her for custody of their daughter. "Their" meaning hers and Olivia's, not hers and Frank's. Without conscious thought, her hand fell to her abdomen, gently caressing their unborn child. She knew Olivia would crush him, but how far would he drag Olivia's name through the mud before all was said and done? It worried her, the thought of Olivia having to endure that kind of attack.

Noting Natalia's demeanor, the protective hand on her belly, Olivia leaned over, her fingertips lightly brushing the top of Natalia's hand. "Frank wouldn't dare," she whispered reassuringly.

Glancing at Olivia, Natalia's face held a look of surprise. "How could you know?"

A soft, knowing smile ghosted smooth, full lips. "How could I not?"

No other words were necessary. Of course Olivia knew. No one in the world knew Natalia the way Olivia did, and no one else ever would. She reached for Olivia's hand, and smiled when their fingers meshed together without conscious thought.

The moment was interrupted as the bailiff called all attendees to their feet. An announcement of the judge's arrival followed, and then the heavy oak doors that led to the judge's chambers opened, and a stately robed figure with raven hair and sharp gray eyes emerged. Striding across the room, Judge Bennett Thomas climbed the three steps to the platform, and authoritatively took the bench.

A curious expression ghosted Jen's face, as she surveyed the woman. She was strikingly beautiful, with skin the color of caramel, smoky gray eyes, and hair nearly as dark as the robe she wore. She was younger than Jen would have expected for a judge; but it made sense, given that she knew the woman was a former classmate of Mayor Wolfe, who was only in her mid-forties, at best. The two of them had attended Harvard Law together, "eons ago," Doris had said with an exaggerated sigh. Jen had laughed, and thanked her for calling in the favor. She owed the Mayor a debt she could never repay. Fortunately for her, Doris wasn't keeping tabs.

Completely oblivious to Jen's silent assessment of her, Judge Thomas appeared misleadingly impassive as she perused the courtroom she had presided over for nearly a decade, taking in the gallery full of spectators, as well as the opposing parties and their counsel. There was quite a crowd amassed in her courtroom this morning, she noted. She wondered what the draw was, and how long it would take to play out.

As she expected, Grayson McAlister was impeccably dressed in a dark gray Armani suit, a freshly starched white dress shirt, and an appropriately conservative silk tie, artfully secured in a flawless trinity knot. No boring Windsor knots for him. He was likely the most unique attorney she had ever encountered. And certainly the most handsome. His thick blond hair perfectly coifed, and his stylish black wingtips shining from a fresh polish, he was the picture of a GQ model. His looks aside, she knew him to be a competent attorney, and expected that he was fully prepared for any contingency that might arise as a result of the impending preliminary hearing.

Two well-dressed women, the older of whom she assumed to be Jennifer Morgan, and the younger to be Tracy Jackson, stood beside him. Jennifer's short blonde hair just brushed the collar of her suit jacket, and the lock that was tucked behind her right ear revealed that simple diamond studs graced her delicate lobes, while an unpretentious gold locket adorned her long, graceful neck, falling mid-chest just below her prominent collarbone. The judge could tell Jen's suit was tailored by the subtle way the skirt and jacket hugged her womanly curves. Nothing fit that effortlessly off the rack. And the slight forward tilt of her hips indicated that she wore heels, albeit sensible ones. Though seemingly innocuous, that tidbit of information told the judge something about the woman who stood before her: she was both conscientious and reasonable.

With a brief nod toward Jen, the judge's eyes shifted to the younger woman then, making another quick assessment. Tracy's dark hair, olive complexion, and those penetrating coal-like eyes, stood in stark contrast to the fair-skinned, blue-eyed blonde next to her.

Straightened from its usual waves, the lack of curls made Tracy's hair appear longer than it actually was, despite the fact that it was pulled back in a loose clasp at the base of her neck. She was slightly shorter than her partner, but the judge surmised that a lack of heels was the culprit. It was clear by the cut of her stylish silk-blend trousers that heels would be awkward, and the judge thought she spied a hint of Doc Martens beneath the table. She fought to suppress the smile that tickled at the corner of her mouth. She supposed it was true that sometimes opposites do attract.

Despite the striking differences in their physical features, their faces wore a matching expression of concern, almost worry. Judge Thomas could tell that their fingers were clasped together behind the cloak of suit jackets, and she almost envied them the intimate connection they so obviously shared. What she didn't envy was the battle that was about to ensue.

And then her sharp, gray eyes fell on Preston Morgan and his band of overpaid lackeys, disguised as his legal counsel. They looked overzealous, and he, overconfident in his own self-righteousness. She wouldn't have been surprised to see him with his feet propped up on the table, puffing on a cigar, the way he flaunted his superiority with an inflated air of casualness. It was as if he had already been granted his petition for custody.

Taking a deep breath, Judge Thomas slowly blew it out. This was going to be an interesting morning. "Please be seated," she finally said, breaking through the silence that enshrouded the room.

The shuffling of furniture and feet followed. Then papers began to crinkle as file folders opened and fingers began sorting. The moment everyone was settled, Preston's lead attorney, Mason Reynolds unfolded his tall, almost lanky frame from a rickety wooden chair, and pointedly shoved his wire-rimmed designer eyeglasses back on his nose. Clearing his throat, he addressed the judge, "Your Honor, if I may?"

Judge Thomas made another quick appraisal of him. His immaculately pressed black suit, overpriced as she assumed it to be, looked sharp on him, as usual, and she appreciated the splash of deep purple in his tie. It was neither drab nor flashy—much like the man himself, she assessed. But then there was that wayward swatch of reddish-brown hair that fell across his brow, slightly concealing one of his dark, squinty eyes. It bugged her every time he entered her courtroom, and she had a notion to suggest he go get a haircut before addressing her court again. Instead, she nodded, granting him the floor.

"Your Honor, before we begin presenting our evidence, we respectfully request that you recuse yourself from this case," Reynolds said politely.

A murmur of surprise resonated throughout the courtroom. But Judge Thomas didn't even flinch at the suggestion. Jen surveyed the woman with interest. Her expression hadn't changed, but her steely gray eyes were like lasers, as they skillfully honed in on Mason Reynolds.

An arched eyebrow was the judge's only visible reaction. "And why is that, Mr. Reynolds?" she inquired evenly. She had, of course, read through his petition for hearing, and anticipated this was coming. Yet she couldn't quite believe he'd actually had the balls to challenge her.

"Conflict of interest, Your Honor," he stated clearly.

"Oh?" She lingered on the word. A deliberate pause, and then, "How so?" She attempted to sound intrigued, though she knew instinctively where he was headed. It was common knowledge that her eldest daughter was lesbian, and that the judge was openly supportive of the LGBT community's quest for equal rights under the law. What was less commonly known was that the judge, herself, despite the fact that she had lived in a heterosexual marriage for more than twenty years, held proclivities for female companionship on occasion. And what wasn't known by anyone was the fact that the Mayor, Doris Wolfe, had filled the role of companion on more than a few of those occasions. It was a casual affair—one that began way back in law school. It had suited their mutual need for more than two decades, without any expectations or strings, and if it were to come to light at this point in her life, she would make no apologies for it. She had only remained silent since her own divorce for the sake of Doris's political career and her relationship with Ashlee.

He wasn't certain whether the judge sounded more annoyed, or… amused. "Well, you, uh…"

"Out with it, Mr. Reynolds," Judge Thomas sighed impatiently. "None of us are getting any younger here."

Jen had to suppress a smile. She liked this woman's style.

"Well, it's come to our attention that…" He paused, nervously clearing his throat. "That you have… personal ties… to the gay and lesbian community."

"Hmm… I see," Judge Thomas said with a slow nod, as if she were actually considering his argument valid. "Are you suggesting that I am incapable of remaining objective because of my… personal ties, Mr. Reynolds?" She reflected his own words back to him, pointedly emphasizing them.

"What?" Reynolds looked shaken. "Of course not, Your Honor," he quickly attempted to cover. That was exactly what he was implying, and they all knew it.

"That's good to know," Judge Reynolds said coolly. "Because I also have… personal ties… with the heterosexual community, and given your line of reasoning, I wouldn't be fit to preside over a single case that appears in my courtroom."

Reynolds' eyes widened, and he shuffled through the papers on the table in front of him. He should have made one of his associates challenge her standing on this case. Grayson had to stifle a smirk as he watched.

"I apologize, Your Honor," Reynolds said. "I meant no disrespect."

"Excellent, because I don't really see where my personal opinions regarding same-sex relationships should be an issue," Judge Thomas said evenly. "Unless, of course, your only evidence of Mrs. Morgan's alleged parental inadequacies is the fact that she's now involved in a lesbian relationship."

The Judge's message was crystal clear, and Reynolds squirmed uncomfortably under her penetrating stare. He'd had a knot of nervous energy in his gut from the moment he received notice that the case had been reassigned to Judge Thomas, and it was growing tauter by the moment. It had been a last-minute change due to conflicting schedules, or so he was told, and they hadn't had time to reevaluate their case. Now he knew he was fucked. And he hadn't even been kissed. Good thing old man Morgan had a back-up plan in the works.

When he said nothing in response, Reynolds' second chair, Derek Jacobson stepped in. Rising to his feet, he nodded respectfully toward the judge. "I assure you, Your Honor, our case has far more merit than that."

"That's good to know, Mr. Jacobson," Judge Thomas said curtly, "because to my knowledge, there is no empirical evidence suggesting that sexual orientation has any bearing upon one's ability to effectively parent. My only concern here is whether or not there is any evidence of abuse, neglect, or imminent danger, where these children are concerned."

Jacobson swallowed hard. He, too, now realized that their case was fucked. He cleared his throat. "If I may, Your Honor," he said, motioning toward the bench. He knew this was a longshot, but he had to try.

"You may approach," Judge Thomas granted.

Grasping a report from their file, Jacobson approached the bench. "This is a copy of the police report from an altercation involving Mrs. Morgan's lover, Tracy Jackson."

"Your Honor, Miss Jackson was not at fault in that situation," Grayson reported, quickly rising to his feet. "She was provoked, and was merely defending herself. I have the arresting officer, Detective Frank Cooper, here to testify to that fact, if necessary. He was also a witness to the incident."

That moment was Olivia and Natalia's first awareness of Frank's presence in the courtroom. Olivia turned to pinpoint his location, as Natalia tightened her grip on Olivia's hand. After his outburst at the Beacon a few weeks prior, and the fact that he'd shown up at the farmhouse in the middle of the night, drunk yet again, they were both grateful that he hadn't made a scene.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. McAlister," Judge Thomas declared. "I've read the court transcripts from that case, and it's clear that Miss Jackson was the victim, not the aggressor."

She remembered laughing at Judge Compton's sense of humor in dolling out punishment for the perpetrator's crime: Mandatory attendance at a two-day LGBT sensitivity training seminar, followed by fifteen hundred hours of community service to be completed at the Springfield LGBT center. At least three-quarters of those hours had to involve direct contact with LGBT individuals, where Diane was advocating for their rights in some way.

Even as the judge's heart smiled, her steely gaze returned to the approaching attorney. "Try again, Mr. Jacobson."

Jacobson stopped in his tracks, turned around, and retreated.

Having recovered from the judge's earlier verbal lashing, Reynolds resumed control. "Your Honor, we would like permission to question Miss Jackson under oath," he requested.

"This is a preliminary hearing, Mr. Reynolds, not a trial," Judge Thomas reminded. She sounded annoyed.

"I understand that, Your Honor, but we believe Miss Jackson has additional information that would be of consequence to this case," Reynolds argued.

"This is highly unusual, Mr. Reynolds," Judge Thomas noted with a hint of censure.

"We're aware, Your Honor," Reynolds commented. "If you would just grant us a bit of latitude…"

"And you're unable to substantiate this information any other way?" the judge questioned.

"No, Your Honor," Reynolds answered. "Try as we might, we can't subpoena her thoughts."

Judge Thomas leveled him with wry look. "Sounds like a fishing expedition to me," she observed.

"Not when the hook's already set, Your Honor," he said cryptically.

Perplexed, Natalia leaned toward Olivia, whispering, "What do you think he's up to?" His cagy eyes and veiled commentary didn't set right with her.

Olivia shook her head uncertainly. She had noticed his repeated glances toward Preston Morgan, but wasn't certain what to make of it. "If I had to guess, I'd say he's stalling," she speculated. "But I have no idea why."

Instinctively, she trained her gaze on the instigator of this entire circus—Preston Morgan. The expression on his face spoke volumes. He was up to something. She could smell it. But she couldn't put a finger on it. Not yet, anyway.

Now the judge was intrigued, which was exactly what Reynolds wanted. "Any objections, Mr. McAlister?" she inquired.

"None, Your Honor," Grayson replied. Reynolds was setting himself up for a fall, and Grayson was more than willing to sit back and watch it happen. "I'm curious to see what Mr. Reynolds thinks he has on his line," he said, challenge in his tone as he stayed with his adversary's metaphor.

Phillip was intrigued as well, as he watched Reynolds' face adopt a smug expression.

"As long as I'm allowed the opportunity to redirect," Grayson stipulated after waiting a beat. Tracy was technically his witness, not Reynolds', and he saw no reason why the judge would deny his request, especially given the highly unusual nature of such a request from opposing counsel.

The expression on Reynolds' face fell instantaneously.

"Very well," Judge Thomas said, causing Reynolds to grimace. He knew it was a long-shot, but he had hoped the judge would allow the testimony without redirect. "Miss Jackson, if you would, please take the stand."

Tracy glanced at Jen for reassurance, than then rose from her seat. Making her way toward the front of the courtroom, she stepped up into the witness stand. The bailiff approached, and swore her in, and then the judge directed her to have a seat.

Once Tracy was settled, Judge Thomas's sharp eyes met Tracy's gaze, softening just enough to make her appear approachable. "Just so you're aware, you have the right to refuse to answer any question that might incriminate you, Miss Jackson," she informed.

The corners of Tracy's mouth twisted into a slight smile. "I haven't done anything illegal, so it shouldn't be a problem, Your Honor," she assured.

"Very well then," Judge Thomas replied. "You may proceed, Mr. Reynolds," she granted. "But watch yourself."

A nod of recognition marked Reynolds' response, and then he meandered slowly toward the witness stand, as if he were on an afternoon stroll. "I see that you're wearing an engagement ring," he commented with an air of casualness he did not feel, as his gaze flickered down to Tracy's left ring finger.

Stealing a glance at Jen, Tracy smiled. "Yes."

"You're planning to marry Mrs. Morgan, I presume."

"Yes."

"When did you decide to get married?" Reynolds asked.

"In early May," Tracy answered forthrightly.

"So… was that before, or after, the petition for custody was filed?" Reynolds queried. He emphasized the points in time, knowing full-well exactly when they had received notification of the petition.

"After," Tracy replied. "But I…"

Reynolds held up a hand to halt her. "I don't need the details," he said smugly.

"I'd like to hear the rest of her comment," Judge Thomas interjected. She glanced at Tracy. "Please continue."

Reynolds sulked.

Tracy nodded. "I bought Jen's engagement ring before we moved in together," she explicated. "I was just waiting for the right time to propose."

Picking up as if the judge hadn't derailed his attempt at manipulating her testimony, Reynolds said, "So you got… engaged," the word fell like vitriol from his lips, "after you realized the two of you stood a chance of finally being alone." It wasn't a question, as he insinuated that they would be relieved to have the boys removed from their custody.

Deeply offended, Tracy had to bite back the sharp response that burned on her tongue. "No, we got engaged when the moment felt right for both of us," she countered. "It had nothing to do with our boys."

"Hmm…" Cupping his chin in his hand, Reynolds feigned contemplation of her comment. "So you're saying that this impending… marriage," he purposely choked on the word, "doesn't really involve my client's grandsons."

"No, I'm saying that…"

"That's quite all right, Miss Jackson," Reynolds interrupted. "A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Again, Mr. Reynolds, I would like to hear the remainder of Miss Jackson's response," Judge Thomas censured. "If you're not willing to allow her to fully answer your questions, then I have a mind to stop her testimony right now."

Reynolds scowled, and Grayson subdued a grin. If this was the way Judge Thomas intended to play it, he wouldn't even need to redirect.

The judge nodded at Tracy. "Please continue."

Glancing at Jen, Tracy smiled. "Our plans to marry are about us and the boys, but not about this custody battle. Jen and I are getting married because we love one another, and we want that commitment for us, and for our boys."

Preston muttered under his breath. The fact that this little hussy kept referring to his grandsons as her own children made his skin crawl.

Pacing, Reynolds feigned contemplation of his next move. "You are aware that same-sex marriage isn't legal here in Illinois," he finally said.

"Yes," Tracy replied. "But it's legal in Iowa and Massachusetts, and we're considering both as possible locations for our wedding."

He allowed her to elaborate on that question, hoping to garner information that he might then use against her. Jackpot. "So you're contemplating moving my client's grandsons out of state then," he surmised.

"No, we're not planning to move," Tracy answered. She and Jen had talked, at length, about a permanent move, and decided it was best for their family to remain in Springfield. "Our jobs are here. And we don't want to take the boys out of their school."

Reynolds wore a perplexed expression on his face as he turned to look at her. "Then what's the point?" he asked dryly.

"The point is, Jennifer and I are ready to make a lifelong commitment to one another," Tracy answered bluntly.

"Why? Because your attorney, Mr. McAlister, said it would look better at trial, if you were married?" he accused, as he swept an arm toward Grayson, intentionally pointing him out. "Even if said marriage is a farce," he muttered.

Annoyed, Tracy bit back a sigh. "Mr. McAlister said no such thing," she denied. "I tried to tell you before…"

"Please," Reynolds said, waving his hand in to halt her explanation. "I told you before, the details don't really matter to me. I just want to understand your agenda."

Tracy knew exactly what he was doing. He was purposely trying to piss her off so that she would lose her temper in front of the judge. Well, he had another thing coming, if he thought she would let him get under her skin like that. "I have no agenda, Mr. Reynolds," she said calmly. "I simply love my fiancée and our boys."

Unable to hold his contempt any longer, Preston pushed his portly frame from the chair with more fluidity than anyone might have expected from a man of his physical stature. "They're not your boys," he seethed. "They're mine!" He emphasized what he felt to be the rightful and wrongful ownership of his grandsons.

Judge Thomas banged her gavel. "Sit down, Mr. Morgan!" she exclaimed. "Before I have you removed from my courtroom." She wondered if he even considered how such an action might be viewed in the context of a child custody hearing. Probably not, she decided. The man was so narcissistic that he couldn't even fathom the idea of losing, regardless of his own behavior.

Preston muttered under his breath, and settled his rather imposing bulk back into the armed chair where he had been perched throughout the proceedings. He wasn't finished with this yet.

Realizing that he was on shaky ground thanks to his client's behavior, Reynolds quickly changed tactics. "Do you know a woman named Antoinette Martin?" he questioned.

Perplexed by the sudden change in his line of questioning, Tracy scanned her memory banks, attempting to place the name. She could find nothing, and so she shook her head in a mixture of confusion and denial. "I'm sorry. I don't recognize the name."

"So you deny having sexual relations with her," Reynolds presumed with a hint of arrogant disbelief in his tone.

Shocked, Tracy pressed her hand against her chest, gasping audibly. "I absolutely deny it, Mr. Reynolds." She sounded incensed, and understandably so. "I've never been intimate with anyone other than my fiancée."

"You sound awfully defensive, Miss Jackson," he said mildly.

"I'm not defensive, Mr. Reynolds," she said coolly. "I'm insulted that you would even have the balls to ask me such a question. My sex life has absolutely nothing to do with my ability to parent my children."

Judge Thomas had to stifle a grin. This one was a firecracker.

Reynolds' face adopted a lecherous grin. "You openly admit to engaging in sexual activities with Mrs. Morgan then, in the home where her children reside?"

"Your Honor, Miss Jackson's sex life is not on trial here," Grayson sighed tiredly. This line of questioning was beyond ridiculous.

"Agreed, Mr. McAlister," the judge said. But before she could continue, Tracy took matters into her own hands.

Noting his wedding band, Tracy arched an eyebrow. "Are you implying that you don't have sex with your wife when your children are home?" she countered, making the assumption that he had children of his own. "Perhaps that's why you seem so frustrated," she said mildly.

The expression on Judge Thomas's face remained static, but she found herself highly amused by the young woman on her witness stand. Olivia, Natalia, and Jen were equally amused, and Phillip found himself quite taken with the young woman. He was certain that Jake would approve of Jen's choice in a life partner and co-parent for his children.

Taken aback by the unexpected brazenness of her response, Reynolds sputtered, "Well, I… that's none of your business."

"Your Honor, I fail to see what any of this has to do with our case," Grayson sighed, growing annoyed.

"I tend to agree, Mr. McAlister," Judge Thomas said, sounding tired.

"Your Honor, if you'll just allow me a few more questions," Reynolds begged.

"You've had more than enough time to make your point, Mr. Reynolds, and you've failed to accomplish anything other than unfairly placing this woman's personal business on trial." She glanced at Tracy. "You may step down, Miss Jackson. I apologize for the unnecessary intrusion into your personal life."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Tracy said politely. Rising from the stand, she moved gracefully across the room, returning to her seat next to Jen. They exchanged glances, and Tracy shrugged. She had no idea what any of this was about.

The subtle buzzing of Preston Morgan's cell phone garnered Reynolds' attention without rousing the suspicions of anyone else. With an air of smugness, Preston viewed the message beneath the cloak of the table in front of him. His lips curled into an insidious smirk, and he gave a slight nod to his lead attorney.

That was the signal Reynolds had been awaiting. He quickly stepped up his game. "Your Honor, to be quite blunt, we intend to present evidence indicating that the minor children are in danger of being sexually molested by Mrs. Morgan's lover, Tracy Jackson," he reported. "We have proof of her previous involvement in crimes of a similar nature."

After a brief moment of dead silence, a series of sharp gasps echoed across the courtroom. And then there was the steady rumble of hushed conversation, as onlookers began to speculate as to what this might mean.

Stunned, Jen and Tracy turned to one another, mirror images of absolute bewilderment on their faces. Across the aisle, Preston Morgan's face held an arrogant smirk, and his table full of pompous attorneys looked as though they had just won the lottery.

TBC in Chapter 14.9…