By the time the second public hearing began, every seat in the gallery was taken. More than a dozen cameras lined the back wall.
The Coles sat together at the far end of the long table.
Ethan kept adjusting his cuffs. Vivian sat rigidly beside him. Only Lily had her head bowed, three rejected appeal letters arranged in front of her.
I nodded to Robert, and he brought up the first document.
The final manuscript filled the screen.
Ethan's revisions covered every page from the title to the conclusion. The file metadata showed that the last edits had been made on the night he took the manuscript from my apartment.
The next exhibit was an email he had sent to Vivian.
There was no message—only an attachment.
The attached file had the same name as my final manuscript.
Early the next morn
