Verdict of the Heart

Chapter One: The Robe and the Mask

Marcus Ellery adjusted the cuffs of his black robe, the fabric smooth and heavy with the weight of the law. Outside the tall windows of the courtroom, the city buzzed with its usual chaos—horns, footsteps, the hum of lives crossing paths without touching.

Inside, he was the final word. The gavel. The god in black.

But beneath the robe, Marcus wore something else—a carefully constructed mask of control. Of indifference. Of heterosexual masculinity.

None of it was real.

He watched the courtroom file in. Lawyers like overfed birds flapping in tailored suits. Defendants clutching nerves with sweating hands. And then, now and then, someone who caught his eye—someone like the young man from last week. Eyes like storms. Lips like secrets. Marcus had dismissed the case quickly, and sealed the record. A favor for no reason, they said.

But there was always a reason.

He wasn’t proud of it. But he wasn’t ashamed either. The robe made him untouchable. It was a stage costume for a role he played better than anyone else.

He returned to his chambers after the morning session, pouring scotch into his coffee. The desk was covered in briefs, but none of them interested him—not until he saw a new name:

State vs. Adrian Cole.

The mugshot caught him. Adrian had sharp cheekbones and rough stubble, but soft eyes. A contradiction. He looked defiant in the photo—like a man with nothing left to lose.

Marcus leaned back in his chair. “Let’s see what secrets you hold, Mr. Cole.”

He flipped through the file. Adrian was a bartender, arrested after a late-night bar fight that left another man with a broken jaw. Witnesses claimed Adrian didn’t throw the first punch. The victim’s story was inconsistent. And yet the DA was pushing charges.

Marcus narrowed his eyes.

It stinks. But maybe…

He pressed a finger against the photo, tracing the curve of Adrian’s jaw with a thumb he didn’t realize was trembling.

He hated this part of himself.

The part that looked for cracks in the law to slip through. The part that sometimes twisted justice not out of mercy, but desire. His gaydar was as sharp as his legal instincts, and it hummed quietly as he studied Adrian’s eyes.

Don’t do this, he warned himself. But he already knew he would.

A knock on the chamber door broke the stillness.

“Come,” he called.

His clerk, Dana, stepped in with her usual grace and guarded expression. “Your 3 PM is here. A Mr. Cole’s preliminary hearing is being moved up. Public defender requested a status review.”

Marcus kept his tone even. “Slot it into my calendar. No press?”

“No. Just you, him, and his lawyer.”

Perfect.

When she left, Marcus stared at Adrian’s file a moment longer before closing it and resting his hands on top. His fingers drummed slowly.

He told himself this was just a case. Another chance to weigh truth. But something in his chest stirred—something that had been cold for far too long.

He didn’t know it yet, but the man about to walk into his courtroom wasn’t just a defendant. He was a turning point.

And Marcus Ellery, who had always controlled the narrative, might be about to lose the script.

Look out for Chater 2