I opened the blue folder and laid three white documents on the metal table.

“These are the seizure warrants for the bank accounts in the Cayman Islands,” I said.

“They are already empty,” Grant muttered, looking down.

“No,” I said. “We intercepted the transfer two hours ago.”

He stared at the papers, his mouth slightly open.

“The estate in Denver is being returned to my sole custody,” I said.

“You can’t do that,” he said. “My name is on the deed.”

“Your name was removed by a federal judge thirty minutes ago under the asset forfeiture laws,” I said.

He sank back into the chair, the metal cuffs clinking against the table.

I turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

I walked down the quiet hallway to Room B.

Vanessa Vale sat there, a white bandage wrapped over her right shoulder.

She was wearing a orange jumpsuit, the fabric stiff and oversized.

Her makeup was smeared, and her eyes were dark with anger.

“You think you won, Evelyn?” she spat as I entered.

I threw the black USB drive onto the table between us.