He had set up a dummy corporation to funnel the money away from the estate trust.

The trust that was legally set aside for my inheritance.

“It was a systemic embezzlement scheme,” Wyatt explained, his tone sharp. “You stole over four million dollars from your own daughter’s trust.”

Melanie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Four million?”

She looked at our father, waiting for him to deny it.

But my father just stood there, his jaw clenched, his eyes darting toward the floor.

“You used the trust money to pay off your personal debts,” I said. “And you used it to buy Melanie’s apartment in Chicago.”

“That’s not true!” Melanie shrieked, taking a step down the stairs. “Tell her it’s not true, Dad!”

My father didn’t look at her.

“The audit is thorough, Richard,” Wyatt said. “The forensic accountants went back to nineteen ninety-five.”

“You have no proof,” my father muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“The police have the proof,” I said. “Detective Harper is already reviewing the transfer logs.”

My mother sank onto the bottom step of the staircase, burying her face in her hands.