Sarah stepped between us, her briefcase held like a shield.

“Get away from my client, Grant,” Sarah said, her voice sharp and level.

“I was just wishing her a good afternoon,” Grant said.

He turned on his heel, his leather shoes clicking against the polished terrazzo floor as he walked toward the elevators.

I sank against the cold limestone wall, my knees suddenly weak.

“He’s going to evict my mother,” I said, looking at Sarah. “He bought the debt on her building.”

“We are not letting him intimidate us,” Sarah said, grabbing my arm. “Look at me, Claire.”

I looked into her steady, tired eyes.

“We just caught his business partner fleeing the building,” Sarah said. “We have the upper hand, and he knows it.”

Before I could answer, the heavy wooden doors of the courtroom opened.

A court deputy walked out, holding a manila folder.

“Attorney Miller,” the deputy said, looking at Sarah. “Judge Harlan wants both parties back in his chambers immediately.”

“Where is Grant’s attorney?” Sarah asked.

“Mr. Carroway is already inside,” the deputy replied.