Victor’s face tightened.
“They were refinanced.”
I stood.
Grace touched my arm.
For twenty years I had swallowed anger because Victor called female anger embarrassing.
Hysterical.
Counterproductive.
Unattractive.
But this anger was different.
It was clean.
“You stole my company.”
Victor said nothing.
“You used my money.”
Nothing.
“You forged my name while I was unconscious.”
“Claire—”
“You blamed Mateo.”
His jaw flexed.
“You hid eleven million dollars.”
“Those numbers are exaggerated.”
“And you put millions of dollars of guarantees in my name?”
His voice sharpened.
“I protected the company!”
The words echoed.
Judge Monroe looked at him.
Victor realized too late what he had admitted.
I sat.
My hands were ice cold.
Grace whispered, “That was useful.”
I almost laughed.
The hearing recessed at 1:15.
I walked into the hallway and nearly collapsed.
Grace caught me.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not collapsing where he can see me.”
