“The account exists, Mr. Carroway,” Judge Harlan said. “And your client’s name is on the signature card.”

Carroway paused, looking back at Grant with a frown.

Grant’s smug look had vanished, replaced by a tense, rigid stare.

“Your Honor,” Carroway said, his tone softening. “Even if there were financial discrepancies…”

“Discrepancies?” Judge Harlan interrupted. “This is systematic fraud.”

“It is a deliberate attempt to mislead this court.”

“And it speaks directly to the character of the parent seeking primary custody.”

Sarah stood her ground, her voice calm and steady.

“Furthermore, Your Honor,” Sarah said. “The receipt was found hidden in Nolan’s clothing.”

“Mr. Bellamy used his own son to transport these documents.”

A murmur went through the small gallery.

Renee Whitaker made a quick, aggressive note in her pad.

Grant leaned forward, his hands flat on the table.

“That is a lie,” Grant muttered, his voice shaking with anger.

“Mr. Bellamy, do not speak out of turn,” Judge Harlan warned.

The tension in the room was thick enough to feel.

I looked at the faded blue shirt lying in the evidence bag on our table.