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He spun around. “Shut up.”
She flinched.
I saw myself twenty years ago in that flinch. Then I saw myself now, standing upright, scarred but unshaken.
“You should leave him,” I told her.
Victor laughed bitterly. “Listen to Saint Evelyn.”
I stepped closer. “I’m not a saint. I’m evidence.”
When we returned, the judge’s expression had changed. It was no longer gentle. It was judicial.
By the end of the afternoon, Victor’s request to deny me ownership was rejected. The recognized my substantial contribution and ordered emergency preservation of business records. Victor was forbidden from selling, transferring, or hiding restaurant assets. A forensic accountant was appointed. The labor department filings were referred for further review
