Sloane Pierce reached out and grabbed Gavin’s forearm, her fingers digging into his sleeve.

“Gavin, sit down,” Sloane whispered, her face pale under her heavy makeup. “Please, just sit down.”

Gavin shoved her hand away and glared at the two agents.

The second agent, who was younger with a short haircut, did not move his hands from his sides.

“Mr. Rourke,” the younger agent said. “Sit down.”

Gavin looked at the agent’s eyes, then slowly sank back into his chair.

The silence in Courtroom Six grew heavy, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning unit near the window.

I sat at my table, my hands clasped together on the polished wood.

My attorney, Marcus, leaned over and whispered to me.

“They have the original registry files from the secure server,” Marcus said. “The ones showing you never transferred your shares to the holding company.”

“I know,” I said. “I saw the confirmation.”

“It’s over for him, Cassandra,” Marcus said. “He cannot hide behind the corporate veil anymore.”

The side door opened, and the bailiff stood up straight.

“All rise for the Honorable Marian Beckett,” the bailiff chanted.