"Recess granted," Krenshaw said weakly. "Court will resume in thirty minutes."
As the gallery buzzed with excitement and confusion, Malik packed his briefcase with the calm confidence of someone who held all the cards. The first battle was over, and everyone in that courtroom knew that the nine-year-old boy had just outmaneuvered some of the most expensive lawyers in the state.
---
The courthouse hallway exploded with tension during the thirty-minute recess. News reporters surrounded anyone willing to talk, cameras capturing every moment of the escalating drama.
Inside a restricted area near the side entrance, Judge Krenshaw and Preston Blackwell stood in hushed, urgent conversation.
"What does that kid know?" Blackwell hissed, his arrogance completely replaced by panic. "How could a nine-year-old possibly—"
"Shut up," Krenshaw whispered harshly. "Not here."
Meanwhile, social media was exploding with clips from the morning's proceedings. The "little lawyer" was trending nationally, with thousands sharing videos of Malik's legal arguments and demanding an investigation into the local housing court.
Preston Blackwell approached Malik directly near the water fountains, abandoning any pretense of working through his legal team. "Listen, kid," Blackwell said, his voice low and threatening. "You're playing with forces beyond your understanding. This isn't some game. This is the real world, where people who cross me get destroyed."
Malik looked up without flinching. "Mr. Blackwell, are you attempting to intimidate a witness in a federal-rule proceeding? Because that would constitute criminal obstruction of justice."
Sarah appeared between them like a protective lioness. "Step away from my son."