The powerful patriarch looked incredibly small in his oversized leather chair.

“The firm is gone,” Grant whispered, his glass shaking in his hand. “The board is freezing all our assets.”

“You will go to prison, Grant,” I said, looking directly at him. “And so will your father.”

“I didn’t know about the payoffs,” Grant lied, his voice cracking. “I was just doing what my father told me to do.”

“You signed the wire transfers, Grant,” I said. “Sienna had the receipts.”

He stared at me, his mouth open, the realization of his fate finally sinking in.

Outside, the sound of sirens began to echo through the rainy afternoon.

The blue and red lights started flashing against the tall leaded-glass windows of the study.

Antoinette ran to the window, pulling the heavy velvet drapes back.

“No,” she whispered, her hands shaking as she watched the police cars pull up the driveway. “This cannot be happening.”

“They are here for you, Conrad,” I said. “And for Grant.”

The front door of the mansion was pushed open, and several heavy footsteps echoed in the foyer.