“These transfers required the beneficiary’s consent,” Judge Mallory noted, her eyes scanning the handwritten rows.

“I see a signature here for Avery Prescott.”

“That signature is a forgery, Your Honor,” I said.

My voice did not shake.

I had rehearsed this moment in my head for months.

“I was hospitalized under the care of Dr. Whitaker when those documents were executed,” I said.

“Callum used a falsified medical declaration of incompetence to bypass my consent.”

Callum stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the linoleum floor.

“This is a setup,” Callum shouted.

“Vance is a disgruntled ex-employee. She paid him to fabricate this!”

“Sit down, Mr. Prescott,” Judge Mallory said.

Her voice was ice.

Callum did not sit.

He looked at Martin Voss.

“Martin, do something,” Callum demanded.

“Object to this. It’s not discovery. They can’t just bring this in.”

Voss did not look at him.

He slowly zipped his leather briefcase.

“Your Honor,” Voss said, standing up.

“In light of these new disclosures, my firm must withdraw as counsel for the defendant immediately.”

“We cannot participate in a proceeding involving active fraud on the court.”