a thousand butterflies / wlw

naomi

tuesday, august 17th —
I shifted slightly in my chair, hands folded neatly in front of me, forcing myself to breathe slow and steady. Across the table, Benedict lounged like he owned the room, that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. His lawyer flitted nervously through papers, but I could see the tension under their calm façade.

Grayson sat rigid next to me, jaw tight, eyes sharp. I felt his quiet strength at my side, grounding me, even when I wanted to bolt. Our lawyer sat between us and the chaos, notes and files neatly stacked, ready for whatever Benedict tried to throw at us.

At the head of the table, the higher authority—someone far above even these lawyers—looked every bit the part of a person used to absolute control. Eyes sharp, posture perfect, scanning every movement in the room like they could see straight through people.

"Miss. Naomi," the authority said, and I felt my pulse hitch. "You understand that everything presented here today must be factual and precise. Any exaggeration will have consequences."

I swallowed, keeping my voice even. "I understand," I said. My hands were steady, but I could feel the tension in my chest.

Benedict leaned back slightly, lips curling, the smirk still there. "Of course she understands. Isn't that right, Naomi?" His tone was smooth, teasing—but it wasn't friendly.

I ignored the jab, focusing instead on the stack of documents in front of me. I had spent hours with Grayson and our lawyer organizing every detail, preparing for every twist he might try. I wasn't here to play games.

"You may begin," the authority said, voice cutting, precise.

Grayson's lawyer started presenting the first pieces of evidence. I listened, my hands tightening around the edge of the table as our case began to unfold. Every photograph, every document, every timestamp; it all spoke louder than Benedict's charm could ever hope to.

Benedict shifted, the smirk flickering for just a second, betraying the annoyance I'd been waiting for. I caught his eyes for a fraction of a second and held my gaze, unflinching.

The lawyer cleared his throat, sliding a folder toward the authority. "Here we have the documented instances of emotional and verbal abuse Mr. Benedict subjected Ms. Naomi to throughout the years. Screenshots, recorded messages, and written statements of witnesses who were present during several incidents."

I kept my breathing steady. The room felt colder, tighter, but I didn't look away. Not now.

The lawyer continued, flipping to the next set of documents. "Additionally, we have clear evidence of Mr. Benedict's infidelity—"

Benedict shifted sharply. His smirk twitched, and something ugly flickered behind his eyes.

"With multiple partners," the lawyer finished calmly, sliding a page forward.

There it was. Photographs. Dates. Receipts. Names. All the things Benedict thought I'd never see. Before the authority could respond, Benedict's lawyer leaned forward, voice sharp and cutting.

"Let's not forget," he interjected, "that Benedict's wife at the time also cheated. And slept with Grayson."

The words dropped like a grenade. Grayson stiffened beside me, but his expression didn't crack.

Mine almost did. Almost.

I forced my jaw to unclench and met the lawyer's gaze head-on. He was smug, like he thought this was the checkmate move, like we were going to crumble under it.

But the authority just raised an eyebrow. Their voice was cool, almost bored. "And how is that relevant to the charges of abuse, misconduct, and obstruction being reviewed today?" They asked.