The bailiffs rushed forward.
This time, Richard pulled something from his pocket.
A gun.
Chaos erupted.
A shot rang out.
The bullet buried itself in the wood behind the judge.
Screams. Panic. Bodies diving.
And Ethan—still in cuffs—locked onto Richard’s wrist with everything he had.
“Let go!” Richard shouted wildly.
“Never!” Ethan fired back.
Another shot.
And then—
Silence.
Richard’s body jerked.
Then went still.
Behind him stood the security officer, her weapon still raised, hands shaking.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Until Noah cried.
A sharp, living cry that cut through everything.
The world came back.
Marcus Cole was captured trying to flee.
Arrests were ordered.
The hearing was suspended.
And Ethan, still on the ground, bruised, bleeding, breathing hard, could only look at Olivia and his son—
As if he still couldn’t believe they were real.
Three days later, the story was everywhere.
The innocent man.
The corrupt tycoon.
The evidence hidden in a newborn’s blanket.
But the full truth took longer.
Daniel Cruz hadn’t died immediately.
He had hidden for two weeks—recording, gathering proof, preparing.
