“That’s not appropriate,” Ethan’s lawyer said quickly. “A minor cannot—”
“Enough,” the judge interrupted.
He looked at Sophie. “What do you want to show me?”
She held up a slightly crumpled envelope.
“It’s important,” she said. “And my mom doesn’t know about it.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Come here,” the judge said.
Sophie walked forward, each step echoing in the silent courtroom.
Ethan shifted in his seat. “This proves nothing—”
The judge ignored him and opened the envelope.
He pulled out several documents.
Read them carefully.
Once.
Twice.
Then his expression changed.
“Mr. Ethan,” he said slowly, “would you like to explain this?”
Ethan stood. “They’re just drafts. Nothing finalized.”
“Drafts?” the judge repeated, lifting one page.
“These documents show financial transfers made before the surgery. Accounts opened solely in your name. And…” he paused, “a divorce agreement prepared before the transplant.”
My mind went blank.
“Before…?” I whispered.
The judge’s voice hardened. “Were you planning to divorce your wife before receiving her kidney?”
Silence.
“Answer the question.”
Ethan hesitated. “It… wasn’t final.”