Beside him stood Dr. Patel, holding a leather medical bag, his face white with fear.

“Arthur,” Roman said, stepping into the room.

My father looked up, his eyes widening when he saw me standing beside Roman.

“Lena,” Arthur said, his voice raspy. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You took the routing numbers,” I said, walking toward the desk.

“I did what I had to do to save us,” Arthur said, his hands trembling over the keyboard. “The Blackwells are sinking. The rival syndicate will destroy us if we don’t pay.”

“You lied to me about the debts,” I said. “You used my mother’s clinic as a shield.”

“It was the only way to keep Roman from looking too closely,” Arthur said.

He looked at Roman, a desperate grin appearing on his face.

“The transfer is ninety percent complete, Blackwell,” Arthur said. “You can’t stop it now. The funds are already in transit to the Cayman accounts.”

“They are in transit,” I said, “but they haven’t cleared the secondary security node.”

Arthur paused, his fingers hovering over the mouse. “What are you talking about?”