“I was in college before I was hired by Mr. Casiraghi,” he says. “I was hired by his company after graduation.”

“And what college did you attend?”

“Northwestern, ma’am.”

“Impressive,” I note. “What was your degree?”

“Business, ma’am.”

“And you always intended to become a personal assistant?”

“Objection,” Eli calls. “Relevance.”

I give my attention to Judge Harding. “Your Honor, it couldn’t be more relevant.”

“Overruled,” she answers, giving me a flat look. “But if you have a point, let’s get there, Ms. Pierce.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” I look back to Anton. “Mr. Andrews?”

“I…I’m not sure,” he says nervously. “My father wanted me to earn a business degree.”

“Interesting.” I turn away from him, my hands behind my back as if I’m thinking. I look at Lorenzo’s table, noticing his knuckles are white from the way he’s clenching his fist. “It’s interesting, Mr. Andrews,” I continue, still looking out at the court instead of back at him. “Because we were unable to find anyone by your name that was enrolled at Northwestern University during the years you supposedly attended.”

I turn back to see his shocked expression, not missing the way his eyes dart yet again to Lorenzo’s table. “I—”

“I thought that was strange,” I go on, “but only until I found that you legally changed your name in 2014, isn’t that right?”

“Objection!” Eli shouts, his chair scraping as he stands.

I step over to my table, pulling out a folder of documents and walking it back to the bench. “You’ll notice this is marked item number forty-seven, a document disclosed to both parties in pretrial that overviews the employment records of Mr. Andrews. If you turn to page seven, under the section ‘Other Names,’ Mr. Andrews has listed his former legal name. This already-admitted evidence means it’s completely admissible for our team to follow up on the matter.”

Judge Harding skims the document, nodding before handing it back. “She’s right, Mr. Hart. It’s previously disclosed.”

“This is outrageous!” Lorenzo slams his fists on the table. “You cannot—”

“Order,” Judge Harding says harshly, slamming her gavel before pointing it at Eli. “Get your client under control, Mr. Hart.”

I have to bite back my smile. Lorenzo must realize that he’s dug his own grave, and I’m happy to be holding the shovel. I take the documents back from the judge, calmly extending them to Anton so that he can see page seven.

“Mr. Andrews,” I say sweetly. “Can you please read to me the name you listed on your employment application for Casiraghi Development in 2015?”

Anton looks as white as a sheet. Clearly, his nervous disposition wasn’t an inherited one.

When he doesn’t immediately answer, I urge, “Mr. Andrews?”

“A-Anton Kinsley,” he stutters.

Satisfaction washes over me. “Which would mean you share the same last name as the woman we believe to have been in a long-standing romantic relationship with Mr. Casiraghi, would it not?”

His eyes are wide, and I notice he doesn’t dare to glance at Lorenzo now. “Yes.”

“Very interesting.” I pull out another document from my folder. “Can you tell me what this document is?”

Anton sucks in a breath. “It’s my registration paperwork for Northwestern.”

“That’s right.” I flip the page. “And can you tell me what this document is that you submitted with that paperwork for proof of age?”

“My birth certificate,” he practically whispers.

“What was that?”

“My birth certificate,” he says louder.

“And can you please read for the court who are listed as your parents on this document?”

Anton is starting to look a little green, and he does glance back to Lorenzo for a brief moment, looking even worse after doing so. I almost feel bad for the guy. When he gives his attention back to the document in front of him, I wonder if he will need a bucket soon.

“LeeAnn Kinsley and…Lorenzo Casiraghi.”

There’s an outburst behind me, Lorenzo starting to shout in Italian as a collective murmur sets off through the room, but I give none of it my attention, already thanking Mr. Andrews for his time and calmly passing the witness even as Judge Harding starts banging her gavel to try to get control of the room.

Bianca’s eyes are bright and wet when they meet mine as I join her back at our table, and she reaches to pat my cheek silently even as chaos ensues around us. It’s one of the most gratifying moments of my life, and my entire being radiates with pride and fulfillment as Bianca mouths a quiet Thank you.

I shake my head to let her know no thanks is needed; this moment is all I need.

And in this moment…all I can think about is the one person I wish were here to see it.

•   •   •

Lorenzo is long gone when we exit the courtroom; once we adjourned, I caught him shouting at a blank-faced Eli in a mix of English and Italian before he stormed out of the room in a rage, and honestly, who can blame him? I imagine losing half your fortune because you can’t keep your dick in your pants has to be a heavy blow. I almost feel sorry for him, knowing that his woes are far from over. Almost.

Bianca and I promise to meet in the following week to finalize things, and as much as I would like to tell her about the rest of the revelations I stumbled across this week, it feels wrong not to tell Ezra first. I can only hope that she won’t be too angry when she learns I wasn’t immediately forthcoming about them.

But the last thing I expect after winning the biggest case of my career against all odds, I think, is for Eli Hart to find me after, his fingers touching my elbow gently to get my attention. I expect him to have some sort of cutting words for me, to leave me with one last barb to assuage his ego, so what he actually says nearly floors me.

“You did a good job in there.”

I rear back, thinking I’ve misheard him. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get a big head,” he chuckles. “But it was impressive.”

“Did you sustain some sort of brain injury before you got here?”

“I can see why he likes you,” Eli muses, leaving me gaping.

“What?”

“I am a lot of things,” he says with a smile that looks unpracticed. “But stupid is not one of them. My brother isn’t exactly subtle.”

“You have no idea what you’re—”

“It’s fine, Danica,” he placates me, holding up a hand to stop me. “I’m not going to say anything. Actually, I…” He frowns, his expression weary, and I notice for the first time today how tired he looks. So unlike his normal confident aloofness. “I wanted to give you something.”

I rack my brain for anything that Eli Hart could possibly want to give me, coming up with nothing. Which means I say nothing as he reaches into the breast pocket of his suit, handing me a flash drive.

“I want you to give this to my brother,” he tells me.

“To Ezra?” I take the flash drive gingerly. “Why can’t you?”

“I doubt he wants to hear from me,” he says, a sad smile forming on his mouth. “And honestly, I don’t blame him. I have some work to do before I can see either of them.”

“Either of them?”

Eli cocks his head. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Um…no. We haven’t…spoken in a while.”

“Ah.” He looks at his feet, frowning. “He quit the firm last week. Then he went straight to our parents’ house and took my mother away. My dad is furious, of course, but so far, he hasn’t done anything.” He looks back up at me, nodding toward the flash drive I’m still holding in my hand. “That will ensure that he never can.”

“What’s on it?”

“Everything I was able to copy from my father’s laptop,” he tells me. “Hopefully, it will be enough.”

I feel shock coursing through me. “You’re really going to help them? Why?”

“Because…she’s my mother,” he says quietly. “And I…haven’t been the best son. I want to try to make up for that.”