Richard leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He looked at me, his eyes narrowing into dark slits. “Caroline, stop this,” he hissed under his breath. “You are embarrassing yourself. For God’s sake, have some dignity.”
In the gallery, Sloane let out a soft little gasp of delight, whispering loudly to the associate next to her, “Is she crazy?”
Miriam didn’t flinch. She opened the folder.
“Your Honor, the clause is not defunct. It was explicitly reaffirmed by the Sterling Capital Board of Directors, and signed by Richard Sterling himself, on page forty-seven of his 2018 succession agreement. I have copies for the bench and opposing counsel.”
Miriam’s assistant stepped forward, handing a thick, bound document to the bailiff, who passed it up to the judge. She dropped another copy directly onto Thorne’s desk. It landed with a heavy, satisfying thud.
Thorne snatched it up, his eyes scanning the highlighted page. The color began to drain from his face, leaving his skin the color of old parchment.
“The Infidelity Forfeit Provision,” Miriam read aloud, her voice ringing clear and authoritative, “states that if the controlling shareholder commits documented adultery, conceals marital assets, and subsequently attempts to dispossess the betrayed spouse via the prenup, the waiver is voided. Furthermore, it triggers a mandatory, immediate transfer of all voting shares into a trust for the legitimate minor child of the marriage.”
Richard went perfectly still. The arrogant slouch vanished from his posture. He sat up, his spine rigid, his eyes locked on Miriam.
In the gallery, his mother, Eleanor, stopped breathing. She leaned forward, gripping the oak pew in front of her so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“This is insane,” Richard snapped, his voice losing its smooth polish. “We are not in the Victorian era. You cannot enforce a morality clause to seize corporate equity.”
“We are not in the Victorian era, Mr. Sterling,” Miriam replied coolly. “We are in Delaware contract law. And you signed the contract.”
“There is no documented adultery!” Thorne shouted, recovering his voice. “My client’s personal life is entirely separate from—”
Miriam clicked a small remote in her hand.
The large monitor mounted on the courtroom wall flickered to life.
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