The man with the badge didn’t hesitate.

He stepped up to the table, ignoring Nathan and me completely.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” the agent said, pulling a folded document from his coat.

“We have a warrant for your arrest, and a search warrant for your personal electronic devices and financial records.”

Evelyn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

“This is a mistake,” she said, her voice rising in pitch.

“My husband was Senator Whitmore. You cannot do this here.”

“Ma’am, please step back,” the second agent said, moving to block her path.

The lead agent pulled a pair of steel handcuffs from behind his back.

“Hands behind your back, Mr. Whitmore,” he said.

Grant looked at the handcuffs, then at the agent, and finally at Nathan.

“You did this,” Grant spat, his face twisting with rage as the metal clicked around his wrists.

“You put them on me.”

Nathan stood up slowly, towering over Grant.

“You did this to yourself when you started hiding money in offshore accounts to starve your daughter’s mother out of court,” Nathan said.