I had treated my own body as the primary evidence. I charted every scar, calculated the geometry of every impact, documented the cellular evolution of every bruise.

The human body is brutally honest. It doesn’t flatter egos. It doesn’t respect old money or corporate reputations. It simply records blunt-force trauma with mathematical precision.

The first sign that Evan had underestimated his opponent came when Sterling smugly introduced the medical record from my supposed “mental breakdown.”

“Your Honor, we submit this hospital intake form,” Sterling announced, waving a paper. “It documents Mrs. Mercer’s admission following an episode of severe hysteria, during which she threw herself down a flight of stairs to manipulate my client.”

Julian stood slowly. “Objection, Your Honor. Counsel is mischaracterizing the document. If you read the attending physician’s actual notes, it explicitly states: ‘Injuries present are highly indicative of possible blunt-force trauma, inconsistent with a standard tumbling fall.'”

Sterling waved a hand. “A vague, overcautious note from a tired resident. It proves nothing.”