At my words, Dave froze in place as if someone had nailed his feet to the floor.
The giant screen flickered again. The evidence against Henry disappeared, replaced by surveillance footage from an underground casino.
In the video, Dave sat at a gambling table with bloodshot eyes, shoving stacks of chips forward like a madman.
"I'm winning it all back tonight!" he shouted hysterically.
The footage switched again. This time, it showed a smoky nightclub VIP room.
A young man with bleached hair lounged on a couch, women draped over him while lines of white powder covered the table in front of him.
He was none other than Tiffany's so-called dying stepson. The boy, who was supposedly suffering from kidney failure, lying in the ICU, waiting for my kidney to save his life.
I raised the micro
