The sleet was coming down so thick I nearly drove straight past my own daughter. Then the headlights cut through the gloom, and I spotted Maya kneeling beside the stone driveway pillars, freezing to the bone, her head bowed like a captive awaiting her sentence.

Julian stood in the county courtroom wearing a wrinkled orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed at his waist. He looked exhausted, his hair unstyled, the arrogance completely scrubbed from his face.

Maya and I sat in the front row of the gallery. Maya wore a high-necked sweater to cover the bruising on her neck, but she held her head high. She was no longer shaking.

Julian’s public defender—since he couldn't access the funds to hire his usual shark—stood up to address the judge.

"Your Honor, my client is a pillar of the community," the public defender argued weakly. "This was a private marital dispute that got out of hand. He is a successful CEO and poses no flight risk. We request a reasonable bail."

The judge, a stern woman who had already reviewed the police report and the photographs of Maya's injuries, peered over her glasses.

"Counselor, locking a woman outside in freezing sleet in inadequate clothing is not a 'marital dispute.' It is torture," the judge stated, her voice echoing in the silent courtroom.

Before the public defender could argue, the courtroom doors swung open. A man in a sharp suit carrying a leather briefcase walked directly up to the prosecution's table and handed the Assistant District Attorney a sealed envelope.

The ADA read the document, his eyes widening. He stood up immediately.

"Your Honor, the State requests that bail be revoked entirely," the ADA said. "We have just received notification that the FBI is unsealing a federal indictment against Julian Vance for massive corporate wire fraud. He is now considered an extreme flight risk."

Julian’s jaw dropped. He whipped his head around to look at me.

I gave him a small, polite nod.