“Mr. Voss,” Elena began, walking toward the podium.

“Please state your relationship to the defendant, Patricia Voss.”

“She is my mother,” Harrison said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Speak into the microphone, please,” the bailiff instructed.

Harrison cleared his throat. “She is my mother.”

Elena placed a copy of Arthur’s ledger on the podium.

“Are you familiar with the offshore accounts listed under Voss Holdings from 2018 onward?”

Harrison looked at his mother.

Patricia’s jaw was clamped so tight the muscles in her cheek twitched.

She gave him a slow, warning shake of her head.

Harrison looked down at his own hands, his knuckles turning white.

“I am,” Harrison said.

“And who authorized the transfer of Claire’s personal software dividends into those accounts?” Elena asked.

The courtroom fell completely silent.

You could hear the low hum of the heating vents in the ceiling.

“My mother did,” Harrison said clearly.

Patricia gasped, half-rising from her chair before her lawyer grabbed her arm and pulled her down.

“That is a lie!” Patricia hissed.

“Order,” Judge Harris warned, rapping her gavel once against the wooden block.