There was a metal table, four chairs, and a desktop computer terminal.

A female agent in a navy blazer was waiting inside.

“This is Agent Vance,” Harris said, then paused, clearing his throat. “No relation to Julian.”

Agent Vance gave a small, professional smile.

“We’ll keep you safe here, Natalie,” she said.

She set a bottle of water and a plastic tray of crackers on the table.

“Thank you,” I said, sitting down carefully.

My back was aching from the tension of the last few hours.

“What about Victoria?” I asked.

Vance sat across from me and opened a manila folder.

“Federal prosecutors are preparing indictments for bank fraud, identity theft, and conspiracy,” she said.

“Victoria Callahan is currently trapped at the estate. Her personal accounts have been frozen.”

“She won’t go down easily,” I said.

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Vance replied. “Her son—or the man she claimed was her son—just wiped out her liquid reserves.”

“Julian and Chloe left her,” I said.

“They did,” Vance said. “They had a flight plan registered for a private jet out of Van Nuys, heading to Cabo San Lucas.”