Forced to Defend: The Billionaire Who Killed My Brother

by Heather Sinclair

The blood on the grill of the Porsche matched my brother's DNA perfectly. But the Judge looked at me, slammed the gavel, and assigned *me* as the defense counsel. 'Do a good job,' the defendant whispered, sliding a photo of my surviving sister across the table. 'Or she's next.' I have two choices: Win the case and set a monster free, or sabotage it and watch my sister die. But as I dig into the evidence, I find a third option. My brother wasn't killed by the car. He was dead hours before impact. And the man in the prisoner's dock isn't just a killer... he's my only way out.