"I don't care if you're crying, Maya. Stop crying and look at me," the recorded voice spat.
On the screen, which the judge angled so the attorneys could see, the camera angle was low, partially obscured by a bookshelf. Maya had hidden the iPad in the living room. It showed Julian pacing back and forth, holding a glass of scotch. Sitting on the couch, filing her nails with absolute boredom, was Chloe—his office manager.
"Julian, just tell her what to say so we can go," Chloe’s voice whined from the video. "The reservation is at eight."
Julian stopped pacing and leaned down, his face entirely filling the frame, his eyes wide and threatening. "Listen to me, you little brat. Tomorrow, you are going to tell the judge that Mommy screams at you. You are going to say Mommy leaves you alone in the dark. If you don't say exactly what I told you, I will make sure the judge takes you away, and you will never, ever see your mother again. Do you understand me? I will lock Mommy up in a place where she can never get out."