“They are claiming all the financial records we obtained were stolen illegally.”

“They are trying to get the entire fraud report thrown out before the judge even sees it.”

I stepped into the kitchen, my stomach dropping.

My father’s face went completely pale under the overhead light.

“Can they do that?” I asked.

“If the judge agrees with them, yes,” Henderson said.

“And they just scheduled an emergency hearing for tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”

“We need to meet at my office right now.”

My father looked at me, his eyes wide.

The kettle on the stove began to whistle.

My father reached out and switched off the burner.

The sharp, high-pitched whistle died instantly, leaving only the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

“We have to go,” he said.

He did not even pour the water.

He grabbed his car keys from the hook by the door, his movements quick and precise.

“I am coming with you,” I said, reaching for my denim jacket.

He did not argue.

We walked out into the chilly Columbus night.