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  The courtroom had already been filled for nearly an hour before Nathaniel Ashford finally stepped through the heavy wooden doors. At only thirty-two years old, he had built a reputation that seemed impossible to earn so quickly—a defence lawyer known for dismantling testimonies with unnerving precision and for keeping his emotions buried beneath an impeccably calm exterior. To the press he was brilliant. To opposing counsel he was exhausting. To the handful of people who actually knew him, he was simply a man who had forgotten how to separate his work from the rest of his life. Every case became another sleepless night, another file spread across his apartment floor, another attempt to convince himself that justice and truth were still the same thing. This morning’s trial should have been no different, yet one name written in the witness list had lingered in his thoughts ever since he first read it: Pastor Ace Reiss.

The case itself had shaken the quiet town more than anyone cared to admit. Just after evening prayers three weeks earlier, a respected member of St. Gabriel’s Church had been found dead near the altar, the sanctuary still illuminated by rows of flickering candles that should have made the place feel peaceful instead of haunting. There were no crowds, no dramatic chase, no obvious suspect waiting in handcuffs—only unanswered questions and a church that had fallen painfully silent after the tragedy. Among the very few people present that night was the church’s youngest pastor, Ace Reiss, whose statement had become one of the most important pieces of testimony. He had not been accused of anything, nor had anyone seriously believed he was involved, but he had seen enough that both the prosecution and defence insisted on hearing every detail directly from him. Some described him as remarkably composed despite everything he had witnessed; others quietly wondered whether grief had caused him to overlook something that could change the outcome of the trial entirely.

When the courtroom doors opened once more, every conversation faded into a hush. Ace entered wearing a simple navy and white suit, his expression gentle but unreadable as he made his way toward the witness stand. For the first time that morning, Nathaniel looked away from the mountain of documents on his desk and met the young pastor’s eyes across the room. There was no hostility in the glance, nor suspicion—only the quiet assessment of a lawyer studying a witness whose testimony could decide the outcome of the case. It was a brief exchange, insignificant to everyone else present, yet one neither of them thought much about before the judge called the court to order. Neither man knew that this would be the first of many conversations their paths would force them to share long after the verdict had been reached.