“This is my company!” Bennett shouted, his voice cracking.

“Order,” Judge Vance barked, pointing his gavel at him.

“Mr. Whitlock, one more outburst and I will hold you in contempt.”

Harris grabbed Bennett’s arm, pulling him back down into his chair.

Bennett glared at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, venomous rage.

“You won’t get away with this, Evelyn,” he hissed across the room.

I didn’t say a word.

I just watched him, feeling the cold weight of the last few years finally lifting.

In the gallery behind Bennett, three members of the Whitlock Luxe board of directors sat in silence.

They had watched the entire proceeding with grim, pale faces.

Among them was Marcus Vance, the board’s chairman, who looked at Bennett with pure disgust.

I knew what they were thinking.

A public trial for forgery and fraud would destroy the brand name.

They would have to protect the company, and that meant cutting the cancer out.

Celeste was not in the courtroom.

She had stayed at the Carlyle, but Priya’s phone buzzed with an incoming news alert.