Judge Beckett looked over her glasses at Gavin.

The hum of the courtroom radiator was the only sound in the room.

“Effective immediately, this court places a temporary restraining order on all accounts associated with Rourke Regional Mobility,” she said.

My lawyer, Sarah, exhaled slowly beside me.

“That includes all operational, payroll, and reserve accounts,” the judge continued.

“No assets are to be moved, transferred, or liquidated without prior approval from a court-appointed receiver.”

Gavin stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the linoleum floor.

“Your Honor, you are freezing a multi-million dollar business,” he said, his voice cracking.

“We have payroll to meet on Friday.”

“Then you should have thought of that before you forged your wife’s signature on the transfer documents, Mr. Rourke,” Judge Beckett said.

She did not look up from her paperwork.

“Sit down, Mr. Rourke,” Philip Dane whispered, pulling at his client’s sleeve.

Gavin did not sit.

He stood there, his chest rising and falling beneath his tailored suit.

In the third row of the gallery, Sloane Pierce stared at her phone.

Her fingers flew across her screen, her manicured nails clicking against the glass.