My husband defended his pregnant mistress in court, so I hired his worst rival.

Gabriel Shaw didn't move an inch out of my path.

"Out of my way, Gabriel," I said, stopping two paces from his shoes.

"Five years ago, you walked out of my firm," Gabriel said, leaning an inch forward. "I offered you a named junior partnership. You said Aaron needed your complete focus to launch his practice. You gave him your client roster. You gave him your inheritance connections."

"I don't have time for a walk down memory lane."

"Look at you now," he continued smoothly, eyes taking in my torn sleeve. "Standing outside Courtroom 302 like a lamb waiting for slaughter. Aaron just served you on a silver platter to a third-rate junior associate."

"I am handling it."

"You have two hours and forty minutes before Reyes demands an attorney of record," Gabriel pointed out, glancing at his steel wristwatch. "Douglas ran out the back stairs. The local bar won't touch you because Aaron sits on the ethics committee. You’re boxed in."

I looked directly into his gray eyes. "Why are you here, Gabriel?"

"I don't care about your broken marriage, Hannah. I don't need your trust, and I certainly don't need your gratitude. I want Aaron Ross on his knees. You give me the leverage, and I bury him."

"You want revenge for the maritime case."

"I want him erased from the state registry," Gabriel corrected, his voice dropping an octave. "Partner with me, and we take everything he owns."

"I'll think about it."

"Don't take too long," Gabriel murmured, stepping aside just enough to clear the elevator button. "The water rises fast."

The elevator doors closed before I answered.

I hurried downstairs to the clerk's desk to pull the docket files. To pay for the expedited copies, I pulled my sapphire credit card from my clutch and passed it through the terminal.

The red light buzzed.

"Declined, ma'am," the clerk muttered, not looking up.

"Try it again. It's an unlimited business line."

The clerk swiped it. The machine emitted two harsh chirps. "Card frozen by primary account holder. Flagged for unauthorized dispute."

I checked my phone.

A notification from the bank flashed across the glass: *Joint Checking, Savings, and Investment Portfolios restricted per court injunction request filed by Aaron Ross, Esq.*

Then a text came through from Aaron's private number:

*Sign over the lake house deed, Hannah. The property was purchased with marital funds. Give me the deed, and I’ll restore your personal line so you can retain adequate counsel. Don't be stubborn.*

The three-bedroom lake house had been left to me by my grandmother three months ago. It wasn't marital property, and Aaron knew it. He was strangling my liquidity to force my signature.

I stared at the screen, letting out a sharp, breathless laugh that startled the clerk.

"Keep the copies," I told him.

Thirty minutes later, I pushed open the double glass doors of Shaw & Associates on the forty-second floor of the Commerce Tower.

The receptionist stood up, alarm flashing across her features. "Ma'am, Mr. Shaw is in conference—"

I ignored her, walking straight past the frosted panels until I reached the corner office. I shoved the mahogany door open.

Gabriel sat behind a slab of black marble, an open brief spread before him. He didn't look surprised.

"That was faster than expected," Gabriel said, closing his gold fountain pen.

I walked to the front of his desk. My purse hit the leather guest chair.

"Aaron froze every account," I said. "He locked my personal credit cards, flagged my business lines, and filed an emergency lien against my grandmother's lake estate."

"Standard scorched-earth strategy," Gabriel noted calmly. "He wants you broke before the eleven o'clock bell."

"He thinks I don't have a retainer."

I lifted my left hand.

The five-carat platinum diamond caught the sharp overhead light. Aaron had bragged about that rock at every country club dinner for four years. He called it an investment in his image.

I pulled it off my finger. The metal gave a tiny scratch against my knuckle.

I tossed it onto Gabriel's desk.

The heavy ring bounced once against the dark marble and rolled to a stop right against his pen stand.

"Three hundred thousand at wholesale," I said. "That covers your filing fees and the first forty hours."

Gabriel stared at the diamond, his expression unreadable. "I don't run a pawn shop, Hannah."

"I don't need a savior, Gabriel. I need a weapon."

A pause stretched between us, taut as piano wire.

Gabriel reached out, picked up the ring, and dropped it into his top desk drawer. The wooden drawer slid shut with a sharp, final click.

"Sit down," Gabriel commanded.

I took the leather armchair opposite him.

"Here is the playbook," Gabriel said, pulling an empty legal pad toward him. "Vanessa Diaz claims you shoved her at eight-fifteen on the gala terrace. Aaron entered the ballroom at eight-twenty, claiming he found her injured. Where was his phone?"

"He always keeps two," I answered, my voice steady. "His firm phone stays in his breast pocket. His personal device is encrypted."

"Who manages the carrier billing?"

"I do. The accounts are in my name through the family trust."

Gabriel's mouth curved. "A fatal error on his part."

He tapped three keys on his desk phone, putting it on speaker. "Marcus. Bring me an expedited subpoena form and open an emergency docket filing for Reyes's clerk."

"Right away, Mr. Shaw," an associate's voice crackled through the speaker.

"What are we filing?" I asked.

"A motion for emergency discovery and evidentiary sanctions," Gabriel said, his pen moving across the yellow sheet with aggressive strokes. "Aaron represented to the court that he had zero contact with Diaz prior to the incident, and that he uncovered your guilt through independent counseling notes. If he was texting her five minutes before the alleged fall, his representation of her is an active fraud on the court."

"Can Reyes force him to hand over the phone?"

"Reyes will have no choice," Gabriel said, tearing the yellow sheet from the pad and standing up. "Because I am walking back into that courtroom as your lead counsel, and I am forcing Aaron Ross to answer for that phone before the lunch recess."

Down on the third floor of the county courthouse, Aaron stood beside Vanessa near the water fountain, surrounded by three local legal reporters. His tie was loosened just enough to appear burdened, the noble husband forced to do the right thing.

"My client simply seeks restitution and an admission of responsibility," Aaron was telling a reporter with a voice recorder. "This is not about retribution. It is about accountability."

His phone chimed in his jacket.

Aaron excused himself with a practiced, regretful smile, pulling out his encrypted device to check the notification.

I stood twenty feet away by the central rotunda, watching his face.

The screen lit up with the court's automated filing alert: *Notice of Appearance: Gabriel Shaw for Defendant Hannah Ross. Emergency Motion to Compel Production of Electronic Communications.*

Aaron’s smile vanished.

His jaw locked so hard the muscle bulged against his skin. His fingers gripped the phone until his knuckles went dead white, and the color drained clean out of his cheeks.

He looked up from the screen, his gaze cutting across the marble hall straight to where I stood.

Gabriel stepped up beside me, buttoning his charcoal suit jacket.

"Ten minutes to eleven, Aaron," Gabriel called across the corridor, his tone flat and merciless. "Hope your battery is charged."