“My car is waiting downstairs,” Nathan said. “My security team is already driving toward the tarmac.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Nathan said.

We turned to leave the courtroom, but Evelyn Whitmore blocked our path in the center aisle.

“This is a setup,” Evelyn said, her eyes wild as she looked at Nathan. “You used your money to fabricate these charges.”

Nathan stepped in front of me, his tall frame completely shielding me from her.

“Step aside, Evelyn,” Nathan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Your son has committed a felony, and you are very close to joining him.”

Evelyn opened her mouth to speak, but two bailiffs stepped up beside her.

“Ma’am, step back,” one of the bailiffs said, placing a gloved hand on his belt.

Evelyn looked at the officers, then at the judge, and finally at Nathan.

Slowly, she took a step backward, her face twisted in defeat.

I didn’t look at her again as we hurried out of the double doors.

We ran down the marble hallway, our footsteps echoing loudly off the stone walls.