Victor’s expression darkened immediately. “That has nothing to do with ownership,” he snapped.

“No,” I replied. “It has everything to do with fraud.”

The word seemed to hang in the air. For the first time all day, Victor looked uneasy. The confidence that had filled the courtroom only minutes earlier began to fade.

Then my attorney, Grace, stood and placed a thick blue folder on the table. The moment Victor saw it, the color drained from his face. His eyes locked onto the documents as though he already knew what they contained.

And for the first time in twenty years, I watched something Victor Hale had never shown before. The arrogance vanished. The smirk disappeared. In its place was something far more satisfying—fear