I sat at the petitioner’s table, my fingers laced together over my lap to keep them from trembling.

Arthur sat beside me, his face a mask of calm satisfaction as he watched the judge.

“These are highly detailed,” Judge Mallory noted, her eyes scanning the printed emails.

“Mr. Prescott kept meticulous records of his expenditures,” Voss said. “He viewed his wife as an asset to be monitored and managed.”

The heavy double doors at the back of the courtroom swung open with a dull, echoing thud.

Callum strode in, his face flushed, his damp hair swept back haphazardly from his forehead.

Vivian followed closely behind him, her designer trench coat dripping water onto the polished wood floor.

“Your Honor!” Callum called out, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.

“Mr. Prescott,” Judge Mallory said without looking up from the binder. “You will approach the lectern quietly, or I will have the marshals remove you.”

Callum stopped at the defense table, his eyes locked on Martin Voss with pure venom.

“You traitor,” Callum hissed, his fists clenching at his sides.