He looked up as we entered and nodded toward two empty chairs opposite Grant.

“Colonel Langley,” Vance said, his voice quiet. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

I sat down, keeping my posture straight and my hands folded in my lap.

I did not look at Grant, though I could feel his eyes on me.

“We have laid out the evidence,” Vance continued, tapping a thick manila folder. “The forged signatures on the deed of the Alexandria home. The unauthorized access to the Langley trust accounts. The identity theft.”

The room was completely silent except for the low hum of the air conditioning.

“The government is prepared to offer a plea agreement,” Vance said.

He slid a three-page document across the polished wood toward Grant’s attorney.

“Four years in a federal penitentiary,” Vance said, looking directly at Grant. “Followed by three years of supervised release. Full restitution of the two hundred thousand dollars you attempted to divert.”

Grant’s attorney leaned in, whispering something in his ear.

Grant stared at the papers, his jaw working, a small muscle twitching near his ear.