But my voice sounded hollow to my own ears, drowned out by the betrayal.

“Without concrete evidence, Ms. Mercer, I cannot deny the defense’s motion for an injunction,” Judge Vane said.

“I am inclined to grant the protective order and bar you from the Whitaker property.”

“Your Honor,” a voice called out from the back of the room.

It was Ethan.

He stood up, his face pale, his hands trembling as he reached into his jacket pocket.

He looked at Cassandra, who was staring at him in sudden horror.

“Ethan, don’t,” Cassandra whispered, her voice cracking in the quiet room.

Ethan ignored her, taking a step toward the well of the court.

“I have something the court needs to see,” Ethan said, holding up a small black USB drive.

My phone, resting on the table in front of me, suddenly vibrated against the polished wood.

The screen lit up with a flash, displaying an incoming text message from an unknown number.

I looked down and read the single line of text.

The text was from Aaron Vale.

“The key to the lock is in his hand. Do not let them silence him.”