The silence in the courtroom lasted only a moment before my father laughed. He dismissed everything as ridiculous and acted as though the accusations were meaningless.
Without responding, I opened my briefcase and handed a thick folder to my attorney. The documents inside contained evidence that had been hidden for years.
Among the records were bank statements, internal emails, and vendor contracts copied from the flash drive my mother had secretly given me. Every document pointed toward a troubling pattern.
The evidence showed that nearly $4.8 million had been routed through fake consulting companies. Each company ultimately led back to the same person—my father-
