My father-in-law mocked me for arriving in court without a lawyer. He had no idea I was a former military attorney.

Tears finally rolled down her cheeks.

“Because Gregory told me yesterday that if you manage to avoid the charges, he will let Wyatt take the blame instead. He said a son serving time is better than him dying behind bars, and I will not let him sacrifice my boy to save himself. I will gladly testify about how I pressured Hazel Higgins to stamp that agreement, and I will verify every line in this notebook.”

For seven years, this woman had looked down on me as an inferior outsider. Now she was sitting in front of me, handing over the exact evidence needed to dismantle her husband’s empire.

I was not ready to forgive her for the past, but I understood the fierce instinct of a mother protecting her child.

“Thank you for this, Madeline,” I told her quietly.

I gathered the ledger and stepped down the stone stairs toward my car, when the sound of tires crushing gravel echoed through the driveway.

A dark sedan swerved in and parked directly behind my vehicle, blocking my path to the gate.

Bradley Stone climbed out of the driver’s side, heavier around the middle than he had been years ago, but carrying the same arrogant smirk.

Gregory stepped out from the passenger door, buttoning his wool coat as he looked at me, before shifting his cold gaze toward Madeline, who stood motionless on the porch.

“Good morning, Madeline,” Gregory said smoothly. “Entertaining company?”

Down near the entrance gates, I heard a car door shut firmly, signaling that Nicole was watching every move.

Gregory noticed the sound as well, though his expression remained confident.

“Our final court hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning, Captain,” he told me with a sneer. “Bring whatever arguments you like, but you should keep two facts in mind. First, Hazel Higgins formally retracted her statement this morning, claiming her advanced age has made her memory unreliable regarding events from two years ago.”

He held up a second finger with an icy grin.

“And Paige Miller will take the stand under oath to swear that she sat right beside you while you signed every single page of that agreement.”

PART 9

The following morning, the courtroom was packed to capacity with onlookers.

Local residents had caught wind of the scandal, filling the benches alongside a reporter from the regional paper.

Madeline sat quietly on one side of the room, looking straight ahead, while Gregory sat behind Wyatt’s legal team with total confidence. Owen Vance sat behind my table, while Lucas Ramirez observed the proceedings quietly from the back corner of the room.

Nobody laughed when I took my seat at the defense table.

Wyatt sat between his two lawyers, looking utterly broken and exhausted.

Donald Sterling called his first witness to the stand.

“The petitioner calls Paige Miller.”

Paige walked down the center aisle wearing a modest navy dress that gently framed her pregnancy, holding her hands together with an expression of quiet sadness. She took the formal oath, sat in the wooden box, and offered Wyatt a reassuring glance.

Sterling guided her through her prepared testimony with practiced ease.

She claimed that she had been present at the New Canaan residence on October 9, 2021, insisting that she watched me sign each page of the postnuptial agreement before Hazel Higgins stamped it. She added that she had made me chamomile tea afterward because I had been crying over personal troubles.

It sounded like a flawless account, causing several spectators in the gallery to nod softly in sympathy.

“Your witness, Mrs. Palmer,” Sterling announced, sitting back down with a self-satisfied expression.

I rose from my desk without holding any lengthy notes, carrying only a single plastic sleeve.

“Ms. Miller, we shared a close friendship for over five years, did we not?”

She swallowed nervously. “Yes, we did.”

“You were supportive when my mother entered hospice care in Ohio.”

“I did everything I could to help you through that difficult period.”

“You certainly did,” I said, stepping closer to the witness box. “In fact, you sent me a personal gift that week, did you not?”

She hesitated visibly. “I sent several arrangements to comfort you.”

I handed copies of my document to the clerk, to Sterling, and directly to Paige.

“This is an original florist enclosure card, preserved alongside the delivery confirmation from a flower shop in Cincinnati. The card accompanied an arrangement of white flowers delivered directly to Room 104 of the hospice center where my mother passed away. Would you please verify the handwriting on this note?”

Paige stared at the paper as her hands began to tremble.

“Ms. Miller, please read the personal note and the date written on that card for the court.”