Dozens of pieces of evidence.
Sloane stared at the screen.
Her face drained of color.
The courtroom watched every image.
Richard stopped looking at me.
Instead, he stared at the table.
The judge reviewed the exhibits one by one.
“Mr. Vale,” he asked quietly, “do you dispute the authenticity of this evidence?”
Richard’s lawyer whispered urgently.
But the damage was already done.
“No,” Richard finally muttered.
The judge looked unimpressed.
“No?”
Richard swallowed.
“No, Your Honor.”
A murmur spread through the gallery.
