“Your Honor, I want to state my objection to this for the record,” Bastion said, fuming, her jaw taut.
“Your objection is noted and overruled. Counsel, you have the floor,” the judge said to the plaintiff.
What was going on? Then Celia found out.
“Your Honor, we’d like to call Celia West to the stand.”
Of course. It always came down to her. Bastards.
Bastion returned to the defense table. “I’m sorry, I tried to stop this,” she whispered to Celia.
Wearing a weary smile, Celia shook her head. “Don’t worry. This just proves it isn’t about the company at all. It’s about me.”
She suddenly wished Arthur was here, sitting in the gallery, offering his support by his mere presence.
—You know I’m always with you, don’t you?—
Her heartbeat steadied, her breathing slowed. —Thank you.—
—Of course, my love.—
She settled into the witness stand and, hand on Bible, gave her oath in a confident voice.
She couldn’t imagine what questions they wanted to ask her. Her own guilty conscience offered up bizarre possibilities: Is it true you’ve neglected your daughters in favor of furthering your business? Can you tell us how you’ve lied about your recent medical diagnosis? Aren’t your efforts to win the planning committee contract more about stroking your own ego than benefiting the city? Well, she wouldn’t say more, regarding that one. The considerations were about equal. The rest, she would throw herself on the mercy of the court and hope for forgiveness.
The plaintiffs had hired an experienced trial lawyer, and it was this guy, a Marshal Jones, who questioned her, not McClosky. Alas.
“Ms. West, to what lengths would you go to ensure that West Corp wins this city development contract?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“You’ve researched your competition, of course. You know the other companies competing for this contract, you know their resources. I simply want to know if you’ve taken any actions beyond the usual due diligence.”
She thought she knew what he was asking, but he was really just feeding her rope, hoping she’d tie it around her own neck, so she played dumb. “I’m still not sure what you mean. Can you give me some examples?”
“Is it conceivable, in your opinion, that your extensive influence among city officials gives you an unfair advantage and handicaps your competition?”
“No,” she said. “I think filing a frivolous lawsuit is what attempting to handicap your competition looks like.”
The few observers in the courtroom tittered. The judge frowned, unamused. “Just answer the original question, Ms. West.”
“I have no control over my competition, and my competition has as much access to city officials as I do. I’m better off not worrying about them and focusing on my own efforts. So to answer your first question, I’d do everything I legally could to present a solid bid that benefits everyone so the city can’t possibly award the contract to anyone else. No need at all for the kind of gamesmanship you’re implying.”
“You—and West Corp—seem to have what one might call … what would one call it?” He turned to his colleagues as if he really was asking for advice and not playacting. “Obsession? With Commerce City and its development.”
She chuckled. This was making no sense, but that gave her all the more reason to squash this clown flat so no one would ente
rtain the doubts he was trying to raise.
“Commerce City has been my family’s home for generations. West Corp is one of Commerce City’s oldest family businesses, and its dedication to making contributions to the city and its growth is well documented. I’m sorry that looks like obsession to you.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit disingenuous, Ms. West, to call a multimillion-dollar corporate entity a family business?”
“No. Not when it’s been helmed by a West for three generations. What else would you call it?”
“A grab for power, Ms. West. Outside of normal political channels. Corporate domineering.”
She smirked. “I haven’t gone into politics precisely because I’m trying to do some good in the world, Mr. Jones.”