Grant stood, his chair scraping. “What is this? Who are you?”

Vanessa sprang up, staring at her brother. “Lucas? What are you doing?”

Lena Ortiz reached the partition and handed a thick stack of manila envelopes to the bailiff. “We are submitting evidence, Your Honor, of massive corporate fraud, forgery, and a deliberate criminal conspiracy by Grant Mercer to falsely declare his wife legally incompetent in order to steal her intellectual property.”

The color vanished from Grant’s face. He looked at Lucas, then slowly turned his head and looked at me.

The vacant, broken woman was gone. I sat up straight, folded my hands on the table, and met his gaze with eyes like winter ice.

The ghost had come back for the machine.