The elevator behind him chimed, the doors sliding open to reveal two men in dark suits carrying black leather briefcases.

The two men stepped out of the elevator cab.

Their leather shoes clicked sharply against the polished terrazzo floor.

Evelyn Price adjusted her glasses and stepped forward to greet them.

“Mr. Hayes,” she said, her voice flat and cool.

“These gentlemen are with the forensic audit team representing the board of directors.”

Victor looked at the men, then down at the paper in Nathan’s hand.

His fingers twitched against his thigh.

“This is a setup,” Victor whispered.

His voice was barely a rasp.

“It’s over, Victor,” Nathan said.

Nathan didn’t look triumphant.

He just looked incredibly tired.

I stared at the black ink on the page Nathan held.

My father’s name was printed near the top, next to the original wire transfer routing numbers.

The date was March 14, three years ago.

That was the week we bought our house in Key Biscayne.

That was the week Victor told me we needed to tighten our belts because the market was fluctuating.