“The cash was used to artificially lower his documented business income,” Sarah explained to the judge. “By showing less revenue, he could claim he was unable to pay child support or maintain our previous standard of living.”

Judge Harlan looked down at the forensic audit papers on his desk.

He compared them to the handwritten ledger sheets I had found in the pocket of that very shirt.

The numbers matched perfectly.

The dates on the cash straps corresponded to the exact days Nolan had drawn his father at the “special office.”

“This is a systematic effort to defraud this court,” Judge Harlan said, his voice dangerously quiet.

Grant’s face had gone completely pale, his hands balled into tight fists on his lap.

“Your Honor, this is a disgruntled business partner making wild accusations,” Carroway argued, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

“He has bank routing numbers, Mr. Carroway,” Judge Harlan said. “And we have a child’s notebook that depicts these exact meetings.”

The judge closed the manila folder with a heavy thud.