“These are fabricated,” he said to the room.

“This is a coordinated attack.

My wife and her father have manufactured—”

Chapter 12 — The Server

I walked up onto the stage, despite the pain in my ankle, because there are things that have to be said standing.

“The copies from your phone might be disputed,” I said, and I let my voice carry to the back of the room, level and unhurried.

“A good lawyer could argue phones are tampered with.

So we didn’t rely on your phone.

We obtained these from the company’s own servers, under a court-approved preservation order signed three weeks ago.”

I watched it land.