I didn’t look back at the door, and I didn’t twist the silver ring on my finger.

I signed my full name on the bottom line in one firm, unbroken stroke.

Marcus Vance capped his yellow highlighter and set it down, lining it up precisely with the edge of his legal pad.

“We go into courtroom 3B in four minutes,” Marcus said, looking over his half-moon reading glasses.

“Keep your hands flat on the table and let me handle the arguments.”

The heavy oak doors at the end of the second-floor hallway creaked open at twenty past eight.