“Four years?” Grant’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “For trying to secure my own family’s future?”

“It wasn’t your family’s future, Grant,” Naomi said from beside me. “It was Tessa’s inheritance. You forged her name on a federal banking document.”

Grant looked at me then.

His eyes were desperate, searching my face for any sign of the woman who had tolerated his neglect for years.

I kept my expression neutral, my gaze fixed on his forehead.

“Tessa,” he said, leaning forward as far as the chain would allow. “Please. I made mistakes. I was under so much pressure with the business.”

“Sign the agreement, Mr. Holloway,” Vance said, his voice flat. “Or we go to trial next month. With the evidence we have from Ms. Kane and the bank logs, the minimum sentence will be twelve years.”

Grant’s attorney nudged the pen toward his hand.

“It’s the best offer we are going to get, Grant,” she said quietly. “If you go to trial, you will lose.”

Grant picked up the heavy black pen.

His hand shook so badly the metal handcuffs clinked against the table.