Marissa’s face turned a mottled shade of red.

“You can’t do this to me,” she screamed, her voice cracking as the second agent took her arm. “They are my husband’s children! His money belongs to me!”

The agent turned her around with a firm, practiced motion.

He pulled her hands behind her back.

The handcuffs snapped shut with two distinct clicks.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the agent began, his voice droning through the standard warning.

Marissa kicked back, her high heel scraping against the leg of the table.

“Ryker!” she shrieked, eyes locked on my brother. “You did this! You planned this!”

Ryker did not blink.

He sat with his hands folded in his lap, his expression completely blank.

Beside me, Aunt Clara let out a shaky breath, her hand clutching her worn purse.

I reached over and placed my hand over hers.

Her fingers were icy cold, but she gave me a small, grateful squeeze.

“Get her out of my courtroom,” Judge Thomas said, waving a hand toward the side doors.

The agents led Marissa away, her heels dragging on the linoleum floor.