I placed the binder on the table and opened it to the first page.
“My name is Iris Mitchell,” I said. “Before I married Jason, I was Iris Caldwell. I had a master’s degree in biomedical engineering. I developed the original prototype for what later became the Mitchell Adaptive Port System. I have copies of my lab notes, dated design sketches, email exchanges, and the original provisional patent filing.”
Daniel slid copies toward the clerk.
Jason stared at me as if I had spoken a language he thought I had forgotten.
“You signed those rights over,” he said.
“I signed documents after three days without sleep,” I replied. “While recovering from an incident you told everyone was a fall down the stairs.”
His face tightened.
“I never touched you.”
I did not answer immediately. I had learned that not every lie deserved a dramatic response. Some lies were most powerful when allowed to sit in the open, with nothing to protect them.
