“It’s on the live feed.”

Evelyn took the tablet and turned it so Nathan and I could see the screen.

The video was shaky, taken by a bystander outside a budget motel near the airport.

Two marshals were guiding Victor toward the back of a black SUV.

His hands were cuffed behind his back.

He was wearing the same grey suit, now wrinkled and stained.

His hair was messy, and he was shouting at the camera.

“Claire!” he yelled into the microphone of a reporter who had run up to the car.

“Claire, I know you did this!”

“You can’t take my company!”

The marshal pushed his head down and closed the SUV door, cutting off his voice.

The screen went quiet.

Nathan looked away, shaking his head.

“He looks like a ghost,” Nathan whispered.

“He looks like a man who finally has to pay his debts,” I said.

Evelyn tapped her pen against her legal pad.

“The deposition is still on for Thursday,” she said.

“They will bring him in from the detention center.”

“He will be wearing orange, Claire.”