I created a secure vault for my mother’s medical expenses, transferring three million dollars directly to a private medical trust in her name.

That money was clean, routed through a legitimate Blackwell holding company.

“She will be safe,” I said, watching the transfer complete.

“I’ve already sent my transport team to the clinic,” Roman said, checking his own device. “They will move her to our private facility in Geneva within the hour.”

I looked back at the live feed on my phone.

The black sedan was slowly backing out of the parking space.

It turned and drove away, its taillights disappearing into the Swiss snow.

A deep sigh of relief escaped my lips, my shoulders finally dropping.

“She is safe,” I whispered.

“She is,” Roman agreed.

I returned to the ledger and began the final routing sequence.

With three keystrokes, I initiated the transfers that would expose the Vance syndicate’s illegal holdings to the authorities.

The screen showed a progress bar, filling up rapidly.

“It is done,” I said as the bar reached one hundred percent.