“Effective immediately, all personal accounts belonging to Callum Prescott are frozen.”

Callum took a breath, his shoulders tensing under his dark grey suit.

“Your Honor—”

“Additionally,” she continued, raising her hand to silence him, “all primary operating accounts of Prescott Global are frozen.”

The clerk took the paper from the judge’s desk.

He slid it under a heavy metal stamp.

The mechanical clack echoed off the high plaster ceiling.

“A federal receiver will be appointed by three o’clock this afternoon,” Judge Mallory said.

“They will oversee all transactions exceeding ten thousand dollars.”

“That will paralyze my company,” Callum said.

“Then I suggest you cooperate fully with the forensic auditors,” she said.

She turned her gaze to me.

“Mrs. Prescott, your petition for temporary sole custody is granted pending the outcome of the audit.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said.

My hand remained on my stomach, where the baby had finally gone quiet.

“The respondent is ordered to maintain a distance of no less than fifty feet from the petitioner,” the judge said.

She struck her gavel once.

The sharp crack of wood on wood signaled the end of the session.