“The court has already granted three extensions for discovery.”

“But Your Honor, this is highly prejudicial material that was not part of the initial filing,” Sterling argued.

He adjusted his glasses, his fingers shaking against the wire frames.

“The source of this ledger is a disgruntled former employee who passed away before he could be cross-examined.”

“Arthur Vance was the chief accountant of Prescott Global for forty years, Mr. Sterling,” Judge Mallory said.

She tapped her gavel once, a soft, dry click that echoed in the silent room.

“His records are considered business records kept in the ordinary course of operations.”

“Furthermore, the forensic team has verified his digital signature on every ledger entry.”

I glanced toward the gallery.

Vivian Prescott sat in the second row, her back perfectly straight.

She wore a gray wool suit with a pearl brooch at her lapel.

Her hands were gloved, resting on the silver handle of her umbrella.

She did not look at Callum.

She was staring at the federal prosecutor, who was now standing up.

“Your Honor, if I may,” the prosecutor, Ms. Chen, said.