The air in Judge Harlan’s private office was thick with the scent of old paper and furniture polish.

A green shaded lamp sat on the corner of his massive mahogany desk.

Outside the window, the gray Knoxville sky looked heavy and cold.

Judge Harlan sat behind his desk, his black robe draped over the back of his leather chair.

He looked at the papers Sarah handed to him.

Renee Whitaker sat in a small chair by the wall, holding her notepad.

“Mr. Carroway,” Judge Harlan began, his voice flat.

“Your client has some explaining to do.”

“Your Honor, this is a highly unorthodox presentation of evidence,” Carroway said, stepping forward.

“We have not had the opportunity to verify these documents.”

“They are verified by the bank’s legal department and Mr. Daniel Vance,” Sarah countered.

“The account contains over two million dollars.”

“It was opened three weeks before the divorce was filed.”

Grant shifted in his seat, the leather creaking under his weight.

“This is a setup,” Grant said, his voice rising.

“Claire planned this.”

“Mr. Bellamy, speak only when you are spoken to,” Judge Harlan said.