My phone in my hand suddenly began to vibrate violently.

I looked down at the screen.

It was an incoming call from an unknown, encrypted number.

I slid my thumb across the screen and answered it.

“Adrian,” a frantic voice whispered on the other end.

It was Dr. Lionel Mercer.

“They’re here,” Mercer gasped, his voice shaking with terror. “The feds are at my clinic, Adrian. What did you do?”

I gripped the phone tighter, my eyes locked on my mother as she stared at my children.

“I didn’t do anything, Lionel,” I said into the phone, my voice cold and level. “I just gave them the truth.”

Eleanor’s head snapped toward me, her eyes widening.

“What did you say?” she demanded, her hand tightening on her leather handbag.

On the other end of the line, Mercer was hyperventilating, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

“Adrian, please,” he sobbed. “They have my personal safe. They have the ledger.”

“The ledger with my mother’s signature on the wire transfers?” I asked.

I pressed the speakerphone button.

The hallway fell dead silent, save for the static crackle of the speaker.