“Cassandra,” Ethan began, reaching out.

She stepped back, avoiding his touch as if he were contagious.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t ever speak to me again.”

She turned and walked out of the double doors of the courtroom, her heels echoing in the hallway outside.

My mother followed her, stopping only for a second to look at Ethan with deep disappointment.

“You’ve made your choice, Ethan,” she said. “I hope your sister is worth it.”

She did not wait for an answer.

She walked out, leaving the doors swinging behind her.

I walked over to Ethan and placed my hand on his shoulder.

His body was stiff, his eyes staring at the empty doorway.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” I said.

“She knew,” Ethan said, his voice barely a whisper. “She knew about the reports. She helped her father hide them in her office.”

He looked at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I had to do it, Grace,” he said. “But it hurts.”

“I know,” I said. “I know.”

Behind us, the courtroom was still in motion.

The clerk was copying the files onto secure drives for the federal marshals.