He looked down at his leather loafers, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths.

“Yes,” the trooper said, confirming the name on his sheet. “And Ryan Vance?”

Ryan shrank back against the sideboard.

His elbow knocked against a silver candlestick, sending it clattering onto the hardwood floor.

“Don’t move, sir,” the second trooper said, his hand resting near his holster.

“This is absurd,” Linda yelled, throwing herself between the troopers and her sons.

“This is a family matter,” she said, her voice rising to a screech. “It’s a simple misunderstanding about my late daughter-in-law’s estate.”

“It is bank fraud, wire fraud, and grand larceny, Mrs. Vance,” the lead trooper said.

He stepped around her with practiced ease.

He took Ethan by the shoulder and turned him toward the wall.

“Ethan Vance, you are under arrest,” the trooper said.

The sound of the metal handcuffs clicking shut was loud in the quiet room.

Ethan let out a ragged sob, his forehead pressing against the floral wallpaper of our hallway.

“Sophia, please,” Ethan wept, his voice muffled by the wall. “Tell them. Tell them we can fix this.”