The Judge Asked For The Attachment Cressida Had Left Out

Ruth worked through Friday morning while I made copies in her front room.

“We're asking the court to protect disputed property and records,” she told me. “The full money case will take longer.”

She filed a civil suit naming Cressida, Ellis, and their companies. Her papers asked for the diverted royalties, a full accounting, and an order stopping any sale of my designs while ownership was decided.

The divorce would be handled separately.

“One file won't solve every problem,” she said.

I carried both sets of copies to her car. The old assignments were still in the metal case.

The scheduled sale gave the request its urgency. After notice to the other side, we got a hearing that afternoon.

In the courthouse, Cressida wore a cream jacket I had never seen. Ellis sat behind her. He did not look at me.

“You could have taken the offer,” she whispered as I passed.

“I didn't own your offer,” I said. “I owned the thing you wanted for it.”

Ruth touched my elbow. That was enough talking in the aisle.

At the front, my hands shook. I folded them beneath the table.

Cressida's lawyer said I had mistaken a family business dispute for theft. He held up the disputed assignment.

“Mr. Avery transferred the designs to Lantern Span.”

Ruth asked for the original signing record.

He said his client was searching for it.

“We received this PDF yesterday,” Ruth told the judge. “We have requested its source. We also have earlier signed agreements that name my client as the owner.”

She passed up the first license with its attached schedule.

The judge read without speaking.

Then she asked, “Was this schedule included in the materials sent to the proposed buyer?”

Cressida's lawyer turned toward her.

“A summary was provided,” he said.

“That was not my question.”

Behind me, someone shifted on the wooden bench.

Ruth called Malcolm. He spoke so softly that the judge asked him to move closer to the microphone.

He explained the ten percent collection fee. He explained that his office had never received notice of a valid transfer to Lantern Span.

“Did Mr. Avery instruct you to pay Hearthwake?” Ruth asked.

“No.”

“Did your office hire Hearthwake?”

“No.”

The judge asked me when I had first seen its name.

“Tuesday night,” I said. “After my access was cut.”

My voice sounded thin in the room. I kept going.

I described the invoices and the missing payments. I did not describe the two coffee cups. Ruth had told me which facts mattered to this hearing.

Cressida said the fees paid for development work.

“What work?” the judge asked.

“Planning. Positioning. Support.”

“Are there records of that work?”

“At our office.”

Ruth requested access through an independent accountant, with the records delivered and preserved under the court's order.

The judge stopped the proposed sale until another hearing. She also barred transfers of the disputed royalty funds outside ordinary expenses approved under the order. Both sides had to produce the contracts and payment records.

It was temporary. It was still the first solid thing under my feet all week.

The crew wages came up next.

Ruth had brought their time sheets and payroll totals. Cressida's lawyer reviewed them during a break. He returned with an agreement to set aside $18,000 from Lantern Span's existing operating account for approved payroll and related costs.

A neutral bookkeeper would make the payments.

“The crew worked,” Ruth said. “Their pay shouldn't wait for the owners to finish fighting.”

The judge included the agreed terms in the order.

Outside, I called Tessa.

“The $9,600 is being released through a bookkeeper,” I said. “It may arrive Monday.”

“Should we come tomorrow?”

“Only after she confirms the payroll and the next paid call.”

“You sound different.”

“I'm reading from an order.”

She laughed once. I had missed that sound.

“Send me the payroll contact,” she said. “Owen has a rent deadline.”

I sent the name and number while we were still on the call. The bookkeeper confirmed the wage total directly with Tessa, then checked the tax payments separately. For the first time, the crew could ask the person holding their pay a question without going through my wife.

By Monday, the checks had reached the crew. The rest of the reserve covered payroll taxes and approved closeout work. We canceled two unpaid rehearsal days, then rebuilt the schedule around money actually available.

I spent that afternoon replacing worn strings. One at a time, I tied on a red witness thread, removed the damaged line, and fitted the new one.

At five, the independent accountant, Dana Price, called Ruth's office.

The first bank records had arrived.

Dana sent a short message for us to read together.

Hearthwake had received a separate $60,000 buyer advance through an escrow lawyer. The proposed purchase covered “all character rights,” including rights I had never sold.

Beneath that finding was a second line.

Buyer requests immediate meeting with Julian Avery and original documents.