“All rise for Judge Helen Vance,” the bailiff announced.

Judge Vance was a sharp-eyed woman with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun.

She sat down, adjusted her glasses, and looked over the documents on her desk.

“We are here on an emergency motion to suppress financial evidence,” she said.

Her voice was dry and carried easily across the quiet room.

“Mr. Vance, you may speak for the defense.”

Claire’s lawyer stood up, smoothing his jacket.

“Your Honor, the plaintiff, Daniel Whitaker, has submitted bank statements that were obtained illegally,” Vance said.

“He spent the last year posing as an unlicensed laborer.”

“He had no active role in the daily operations of Whitaker Construction.”

“He used his old credentials to break into the secure servers of Collins Enterprises and steal these documents.”

“This is a clear violation of privacy, and the evidence must be excluded.”

Martin Collins nodded approvingly from his seat.

Claire sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead.

Judge Vance looked over her glasses at my father’s table.

“Mr. Henderson?” she called.

John Henderson stood up calmly.