Sloane leaned forward, her eyes wide with a sudden, sharp intensity.

She gave Gavin a tight, frantic nod and began unzipping her large designer bag.

I saw her hand slip inside, searching for something hidden beneath her personal items.

Gavin turned back to the judge, his posture suddenly straightening.

The panic in his eyes was replaced by a cold, desperate calculation.

He reached back toward Sloane, his hand open and waiting.

Sloane reached into the depths of her leather bag and pulled out a thick, blue-backed folder.

She pressed it into Gavin’s waiting fingers.

Gavin took the document and turned back to the judge, his posture suddenly straightening.

The panic in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, desperate calculation.

He held the folder aloft like a trophy.

“Your Honor, my wife has convenient memory lapses when it suits her financial interests,” Gavin said.

His voice was oily and loud in the quiet courtroom.

He laid the folder on the wooden podium in front of him.

“This is a legally binding share-transfer agreement,” Gavin said.

“It was signed by Cassandra five years ago.”