A small silver picture frame wobbled and fell flat on the wood.

“I didn’t do anything,” Ryan stammered, his eyes darting toward the window.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mr. Ryan Vance,” Agent Vance said, her tone professional and calm.

“We have been tracking the accounts associated with the ‘RedLine Sports’ domain for six months.”

“Your IP address has been logged on over forty separate offshore transfers.”

“And we have the signature cards from the accounts your brother opened.”

Ethan looked at the female agent, then slowly turned his head to look at me.

His eyes were wide, filled with a sudden, desperate panic.

“Sophia,” he whispered.

“You did this.”

“You did this to your own husband.”

“You did this to yourselves,” I said.

“You tried to steal the only thing my mother had left to leave me.”

Linda stood up, her expensive coat swinging open.

“This is a mistake,” she said, her voice shaking but still laced with anger.

“My late husband was a respected member of the bar.”

“We have attorneys.”

“You cannot simply walk into my daughter-in-law’s house and make these accusations.”