We crowded into the elevator, the old metal carriage groaning as it started its ascent.

I looked down at Lily, who stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

“What about Celeste’s ledger?” I asked.

“It’s all in there,” Grace said, tapping the black hard drive in her hand. “It proves Adrian created shell companies to siphon money out of the Whitmore family trust. It’s not just a divorce matter anymore. It’s grand larceny.”

The elevator doors slid open on the sixth floor.

The hallway was quiet, lined with dark wood doors and frosted glass.

Grace marched straight to Chambers 604, her face set in a hard, determined line.

She knocked once and opened the door without waiting for an invitation.

A clerk with wire-rimmed glasses looked up from a desk piled high with folders.

“Grace,” the clerk said, standing up. “The judge is expecting you, but she only has ten minutes.”

“That is all I need, Bobby,” Grace said, placing the heavy stack of documents on his desk. “This is an emergency application for a temporary restraining order and an asset freeze.”