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“Jake is going to bring me a doggy bag,” Audreysaid.

“Oh, that’s nice of him. And I’m impressed that he’s so supportive when you’re so busy working. At least there’s only a few more weeks until thedecision.”

Her stomach churned. Now that it was so close, it was almost worse. The possibility that she wouldn’t make it could become a reality in a few more weeks. And she’d seen firsthand how that had hurt Kevin. And she was afraid. She’d also be devastated. Like Kevin. She felt even worse that her sympathy for his behavior had evaporated. It was seven years of work up for judgment. Her mom was still chatting. Audrey focused on what her mom was saying to drown out her fear. Her mom was offering to fly back to be with her on the night of thedecision.

“No, Mom, that’s okay. Jake will be here, and I’ll see you soon enoughin Paris.”

They talked a few minutes longer, and then Audrey said, “I’d better go. I havetowork.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

The imposing cherry wood bench of the judge dominated the courtroom. Audrey organized her documents on the defense team’s table. She placed her legal pad to the right of hercross-examinationnotes and checked once more that her exhibits were in the proper order. Opposing counsel, seated at the table next to theirs, was doing the same. Anderson, the partner on the case, was conferring with Betty behind her. She looked up at the clock that was on the side wall and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. A few minutes remained before their case was called.

The judge’s seat was still empty. The American flag hung off to the side of the bench behind the desk of the stenographer. On the other side was the witness box, also in a deep cherry wood. On either side of the bench were two wooden doors, one leading to the clerk’s chambers. To her right was the jury box. Hushed conversations filled the room. Anderson and Betty opened the wooden spindled gate in the wooden balustrade—also known as the bar—that separated the front of the court from spectators. They joined her at the table, and Betty gave her a reassuring nod. The large ornate wooden door behind the judge’s bench opened, and the judge entered with a swish of his black robes.

The clerk called the court into session: “Hear ye, hear ye, the District Court for the Southern District is in session—the Honorable Judge Kim presiding. All having business before this honorable court draw near, give attention, and you shall be heard. You may be seated.”

Adrenaline coursed through Audrey’s body. She was up. Betty had requested that Audrey do thecross-examinationof the plaintiff—not Anderson, as would normally happen.

The plaintiff, Fred Smith, sat in the witness stand next to the judge. He was aheavy-setman wearinghorn-rimmedglasses and a sharp suit. Arms crossed, his pose reminded Audrey of a bull. She’d met him before, at his deposition. He hadn’t beenfriendly.

His lawyer skillfully led him through his direct testimony: he had invested in Popflicks, but he hadn’t known that its CEO had a Facebook account, and he didn’t follow him on Facebook. He wasn’t even on Facebook. The CEO should make his disclosures via the security filings and not in social media forums. He’d been financially hurt because he hadn’t seen the CEO’s post on Facebook, and so he hadn’t sold his stock when othershad.

It was Audrey’s turn tocross-examineMr. Smith. She pushed back her chair; its scraping against the wood floors reverberated in the silent courtroom. Holding her legal pad, she walked to the front of the witness box. Her voice faltered as she asked her first question on cross, and Mr. Smith smirked. Mr. Smith answered her question, but in a tone that made it seem as if he had ended his sentence with the phrase ‘littlegirl.’

“You think of yourself as an experienced investor, don’t you?”she asked.

“Well, depends on how you define experience,” he said. He’d been coached well by his attorney: don’t admit to being experienced or you’ll be held to a higher standard. But she planned to prove that he was experienced, so maybe his attorney should have told him to admit it. His answer gave her the perfect opening for her line of questioning.

“Well, you seem like you’re your own man. You do a bit of your own research before you invest in a stock, right?”she asked.

“Yes,” he said cautiously, settling back inhis chair.

“Please show Mr. Smith Exhibit A,” she said. A thick folder was passed to Mr. Smith. “This is your research file on JP Morgan, right?”

“Yes,” hesaid.

“And you made the decision to invest in that stockrecently?”

“Yes, but this is JP Morgan. It has nothing to do with Popflicks,” he said, again in a condescendingtone.

“Let’s look at Exhibit C—that’s from your research folder, isn’t it?” There was a shuffling of papers behind her as plaintiff’s counsel flipped through paper.

“Yes,” hesaid.

“The first document in the folder seems to be a printout from JP Morgan’s website with job listings,correct?”

“Yes.”

“Was it your own idea to check the JP Morgan job listingswebsite?”

“Yes.”

“Because you wanted to see what type of skills JP Morgan was lookingtohire?”

“Yes.”

“Because that told you something about JP Morgan’s futurestrategy?”