“Yesterday,” I said, my voice amplifying through the microphone, steady and devoid of any emotion. “Mr. Vance suggested I am a delusional woman trying to destroy her innocent family. I was forced to consider the collateral damage of my testimony. But last night, reviewing my encrypted archives regarding my intelligence work, I decrypted a legacy file tied to the Moore estate.”
Vance’s face drained of color. He recognized the look in my eyes. It wasn’t surrender. “Objection! Unverified evidence! Ambush!”
“Sit down, Mr. Vance,” the judge barked, his eyes locked on the flash drive. “Proceed, Ms. Moore.”
“Ten years ago, my brother didn’t just commit treason. He didn’t just launder money for terrorists,” I continued, turning my body to face the jury directly. “And he didn’t do it alone. He used my name to secure federal grants, then saddled me with the blame while I was in a coma from a terrorist attack.”
