Philip Dane cleared his throat and stood up, smoothing his custom jacket.

He walked toward the bailiff, but the taller of the two men in suits stepped forward to block his path.

The man opened a small leather wallet, revealing a gold badge and an identification card.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” the man said in a quiet, flat voice that carried across the silent courtroom. “Special Agent Harris. We need Mr. Rourke to remain in the building.”

Philip Dane froze, his eyes scanning the badge before he slowly lowered his hands.

“My client is in the middle of a custody hearing, Agent,” Philip said, his voice losing its usual confident edge.

“We are aware,” Agent Harris replied. “We have already coordinated with Judge Beckett’s chambers. We will wait until the court recesses or concludes.”

Gavin stood up so quickly his heavy wooden chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor.

“This is a joke,” Gavin said, his voice rising as he pointed a finger at me. “She set this up. She’s using her father’s old connections to intimidate me.”