I stood up, my legs steady now, and turned to look at the back of the room.

Arthur Bradford was already standing, leaning heavily on his cane as he moved toward the exit.

He paused near the door, catching my eye once more, and gave a single, slow nod.

My phone buzzed in my hand, the screen lighting up with a message from an unknown number.

I looked down at the screen.

The message was brief: *My car is outside. We need to talk before the banks close. — Arthur.*

I showed the screen to Marcus.

He read the message, his brow furrowing as he adjusted his glasses.

“He knows it’s over,” Marcus said quietly. “If the bank covenants trigger, they lose everything by five o’clock.”

“Should we go?” I asked, looking toward the heavy double doors of the courtroom.

“We go, but we dictate the terms,” Marcus said, closing his briefcase with a sharp click.

We walked out of the courtroom into the bustling, marble-lined hallway of the courthouse.

Reporters were already gathering at the far end of the corridor, their cameras flashing as Vivian’s lawyers tried to shield her from the crowd.