I almost laugh out loud. Here it is, my chance to say anything I want. And curiously enough, I have no inclination to say anything. Without Ike Ransom or Ray Presley to confirm Stone’s story, I can add nothing that will sway the twelve people in the jury box.

“No questions, Your Honor.”

“You’re excused, Mr. Cage.”

Excused. My parents are watching me with agony in their faces. Althea Payton nods, her lips tight. Caitlin’s black veil of hair frames her porcelain face among all the others. She’s looking at me with something like pity in her eyes. She thinks I’m unable to turn Livy’s sword against her, not trapped in a situation where my conscience is forcing me to endure humiliation without fighting back. As I walk back to the defense table, I turn toward the jury. I do not give them my lawyer’s look—full of confidence, certain of victory—but a simple human look, an unstated question.

Their faces are hard to read. Stone’s testimony resonated with the black jurors, but even they cannot help but connect the simple dots Livy held up before them. I blamed Leo Marston for making my father ill and ruining my prospects with his daughter. Stone hated Portman for his dismissal from the FBI. Once the two of us were brought together, a conspiracy was almost inevitable. Factually, this theory has at least one major hole. But emotionally it makes sense. It plays. And some of the jury members are bound to buy into it.

As I reach the table, the door at the rear of the courtroom opens, and a young woman walks in. It’s Jenny Doe. She looks toward the judge’s bench, then pans her eyes until they settle on me. She waves at me.

I nod to her and take my seat just as Judge Franklin says: “Ms. Sutter? Does the plaintiff rest?”

Any lingering illusion that Blake Sims is leading Leo Marston’s legal team crumbles into dust.

Livy nods. “The plaintiff rests, Your Honor.”

As Franklin turns to me, someone pulls at my elbow. “Mr. Cage?”

It’s Jenny, crouching at the bar behind my table.

“Mr. Cage?” says Judge Franklin. “Does the defense rest?”

Jenny grabs my arm above the elbow and jabs her thumb into a nerve. I jerk my elbow away.

“Mr. Cage?” says Franklin. “Is that young lady bothering you?”

“May I have a moment, Your Honor?”

“If you must.”

I twist in my chair until I’m face to face with Jenny. “What the hell are you doing?”

Her eyes are glittering with excitement. “I have something for you,” she whispers. “I think I have what you need to win your case.”

“What are you talking about?”