Judge Ramirez adjusted her glasses, the gold frames catching the sharp fluorescent light of Courtroom 4B.

"Mrs. Sloan's counsel has the floor," the judge said, her voice dry, devoid of the theatrical cadence Charles Voss had just utilized.

Rebecca Lane stood slowly. She didn't adjust her jacket or stride toward the well of the court like a television litigator. She simply picked up a single, worn manila folder—the kind bought in bulk at a campus bookstore—and walked to the podium.

"Your Honor," Rebecca began, her voice carrying an easy, conversational timbre that forced the court stenographer to lean in. "Mr. Voss has presented a very clean, very profitable narrative. It features garage-door beginnings, solitary genius, and an ungrateful spouse who sat by the pool while a multi-million-dollar empire built itself."

Charles Voss snorted softly, leaning back to whisper something into Savannah Cole’s ear. Savannah offered a cool, rehearsed smirk.

"However," Rebecca continued, opening the folder, "corporations in North Carolina are required to file articles of incorporation. They are also required to document initial capital contributions, asset transfers, and intellectual property assignments. Mr. Voss entered Exhibit A into the record—the founding documents of Sloan Urban Systems, dated fourteen years ago."

Rebecca pulled out a yellowed, coffee-stained sheet of paper and slid it into the overhead projector.

The courtroom lights dimmed. Projected onto the wall above Judge Ramirez’s head was not a pristine corporate certificate, but a handwritten bank ledger page from Bank of America, stamped August 14, 2012.

"This," Rebecca said, pointing a finger at a line near the middle, "is the initial seed deposit for Sloan Urban Systems. The amount is forty-two thousand, eight hundred dollars. Mr. Sloan testified in his deposition that this money came from an early angel investor named Arthur Vance."

Derek stiffened in his seat. His eyes darted to Charles Voss.

"Unfortunately for Mr. Voss’s presentation," Rebecca said, her tone dropping into a calm, devastating register, "Arthur Vance passed away in 2010. And the routing number on this deposit doesn't match a venture capital fund."

She tapped the glass of the projector.

"It matches an irrevocable trust established by the estate of Thomas Mercer."

A collective murmur rippled through the press benches. Flashbulbs didn't explode this time—instead, there was the sharp, collective intake of breath from two dozen reporters realizing the timeline they had spent a year building had just been incinerated.

"Objection!" Charles Voss sprang to his feet, his chair screeching against the linoleum. "Relevance! The origin of seed capital fourteen years ago has no bearing on current marital asset division, nor does the petitioner's attempt to smear my client with irrelevant third-party names!"

"Overruled," Judge Ramirez said sharply, her eyes wide as she stared at the projected document. She then glanced sideways at Chief Judge Thomas Mercer, who stood silently beside Mara, his face carved from granite. "Mr. Voss, you opened the door to the company's genesis. Counsel may proceed."

Rebecca didn't look at Charles. She looked directly at Derek.

"Mr. Sloan didn't build Sloan Urban Systems in a garage," Rebecca said clearly. "He rented a garage because the house belonging to Thomas Mercer’s daughter—his wife of two weeks at the time—was already occupied by her graduate research lab. He used her inheritance to buy his first excavator. And the patents for the soil-compaction algorithm that made Sloan Urban a national name?"

Rebecca turned another page.

"They weren't registered in Derek Sloan’s name. They were registered under a maiden name. A name he made her legally abandon on their wedding day."

Derek’s hands began to shake. The blood had entirely left his face, leaving him the color of wet lime.

"That's a lie," Derek choked out, his voice cracking. He stood up without his lawyer's permission, ignoring the bailiff's warning growl. "She signed everything over! She signed the quitclaims! She has no rights to the stock!"

"She signed them under duress, Mr. Sloan," Judge Mercer’s voice boomed across the room. It was the first time the chief judge had spoken directly since declaring Mara his daughter. The sound was like a heavy oak door slamming shut in an empty cathedral. "And as the Chief Judge of this district, I am officially expanding the scope of this proceeding to include corporate fraud, perjury, and the obstruction of judicial review."