“This is Arthur Vance,” I said.

“He holds the truth about the Prescott estate.”

Arthur stepped forward and placed the heavy black ledger onto the wooden table.

Arthur cleared his throat.

The sound was dry and raspy in the quiet courtroom.

“Your Honor,” Arthur said, his voice steady despite his age.

“For forty years, I managed the private ledger of the late Thomas Prescott.”

He opened the heavy cover.

The paper inside was thick, lined with red and blue ink, covered in neat, handwritten figures.

“This ledger contains the records of the Thomas Prescott Family Trust,” Arthur continued.

Judge Mallory leaned forward, her glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of her nose.

“Go on, Mr. Vance,” she said.

Arthur turned a page, his thumb leaving a faint smudge on the margin.

“Six months before his passing, Thomas Prescott established a protected sub-trust,” Arthur said.

“The sole beneficiary of this trust is Avery Prescott and her unborn child.”

“The initial deposit was eighty million dollars, secured by federal treasury bonds.”

I watched Callum.

His fingers gripped the edge of the defense table so hard his knuckles turned white.