Judge Whitmore looked at my file, then at me. “Mrs. Mercer, your counsel has submitted no contest to this petition. Is there anything you wish to say?”

This was it. The precipice. If Lucas had failed me, I was finished.

Before my useless lawyer could answer for me, the heavy oak doors at the back swung open with a crack.

Everyone turned.

Striding down the center aisle was a woman in a sharp grey suit carrying a thick leather briefcase. Behind her walked Lucas, his face set in stone. He didn’t look at his sister.

“Your Honor,” the woman called, her voice ringing across the silent room. “My name is Lena Ortiz. I represent Mr. Lucas Vance. We apologize for the interruption, but we’re here to file an emergency motion for a stay of proceedings, accompanied by a sealed notice of federal crimes.”