“No, Your Honor,” I said.
Daniel let out a soft laugh. “Still pretending to be strong.”
Voss turned back to the judge. “Mrs. Hale has repeatedly delayed these proceedings with unsupported accusations. Hidden accounts. Fraud. Coercion. None of it proven.”
Because Daniel had paid the right people.
Because Elise had taken my laptop while I slept.
Because Voss had buried subpoenas beneath objections and stacks of expensive paperwork.
Because everyone assumed a quiet mother in a cheap black dress was already defeated.
Six months earlier, Daniel had locked me out of our house during a thunderstorm and told Noah through the gate, “Ask your mother why she lost everything.” Then he drove off in a car registered under a shell company I had once warned him not to create.
That was his mistake.
He thought I was angry.
I was working.
Before marriage and motherhood, I had spent years as a forensic accountant on federal fraud cases. I knew how men like Daniel hid money. More importantly, I knew how arrogant men slipped once they believed no one was watching.
Judge Marlowe lifted her pen. “If there is nothing further—”
“There is,” I said.
Daniel’s head snapped toward me.
