Evelyn Price opened the manila folder.

“There is one more matter, Mr. Hayes,” she said.

“As of four o’clock this afternoon, a federal judge signed an emergency order.”

Victor looked up, his eyes glassy.

“What order?” he asked.

“All of your personal and professional bank accounts are being frozen,” Evelyn said.

“Pending a full forensic audit of the corporate restructuring.”

Victor’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Every account?” he finally managed to ask.

“Every account bearing your name or the names of your affiliated shell companies,” she said.

“Including the joint accounts you shared with your wife.”

I looked at Victor, watching the realization sink in.

He had no money in Nassau.

He had no money in Miami.

He had no company.

He had no wife.

“I need to call my attorney,” he said, his voice trembling.

“You should do that,” Evelyn said.

“Though I believe his retainer was paid from one of the frozen corporate accounts.”

She closed the folder with a sharp snap.

“Good luck, Victor,” she said.

She turned and walked toward the elevators, her assistant following closely behind her.