“My client has operated as the sole public face and CEO of Rourke Regional Mobility since its inception.”

“Public relations do not dictate legal ownership, Mr. Dane,” Judge Beckett said.

She turned her gaze to my attorney, then to me.

“Mrs. Rourke—or rather, Ms. Bellamy. Do you have anything to add to this?”

I stood up slowly.

The wool of my gray skirt brushed against my knees.

I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a manila folder.

It was thin, containing only four pages, but those pages were the key to everything.

“I do, Your Honor,” I said.

My voice sounded small in the high-ceilinged room, but it did not shake.

“The filing was not a clerical error.”

“I structured the company this way because I funded it.”

Gavin let out a harsh, dry laugh.

“With what money, Cassandra? You had nothing.”

“Mr. Rourke!” Judge Beckett barked, slamming her hand onto the bench.

The sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room.

“Silence.”

I kept my eyes on the judge.

“I have here the original bank statements from my personal savings account at the time,” I said.