“I have spent my whole life protecting this family,” I said.

“But the loyalty was only one-sided.”

“My mother died trying to expose this. I owe her the truth.”

“They will try to tear you apart on the stand,” Gabriel warned gently.

“Their lawyers will bring up the framed audit reports. They will try to make you look like the thief.”

“Let them try,” I said.

“We have the journals. We have the actual bank routing numbers.”

The next morning, the Chicago sky was gray and overcast.

We arrived at the Dirksen Federal Courthouse early to avoid the press.

Even so, a crowd of reporters had already gathered near the steps.

Flashbulbs went off as we walked through the metal detectors.

I wore a dark gray suit, my hair pulled back tightly.

I carried a leather briefcase containing the original ledgers.

In the hallway outside the courtroom, I saw Vanessa.

She sat on a wooden bench, looking pale and anxious.

Her husband, Ethan, stood next to her, whispering fiercely into her ear.

When Vanessa saw me, she stood up.

“Claire,” she called out, her voice trembling.