I had the records of the dummy corporations she set up to siphon money from the Bradford empire.

“She wants a war in that courtroom tomorrow,” I said, gripping the wooden banister.

“We will give her one,” Marcus said.

We reached the top of the stairs, the hallway quiet and dim.

I opened the door to the guest room where my three boys were sleeping.

Owen was curled into a ball, his thumb near his mouth.

Leo and Wyatt were tangled in the blankets, their breathing soft and synchronized.

They looked so small, so innocent, completely unaware of the storm raging around them.

I knelt beside the bed and touched Owen’s warm forehead.

I would not let her take them.

I would lay bare every single lie Vivian Bradford had ever told to the judge.

My phone vibrated again in my pocket.

I pulled it out, expecting another legal alert.

Instead, it was an email notification from an anonymous sender, addressed to my personal account.

The subject line was simple: *The Bradford Trust – Amendment 4.*

I tapped the screen to open the attachment.