“The final hearing is next week.”

“Ethan has already prepared the forensic accounting reports for the judge.”

We drove away from the mansion, leaving the flashing blue lights behind us.

The city of Columbus seemed quiet as we drove back toward our apartment.

The streets were slick with rain, reflecting the amber glow of the streetlights.

I looked at my father’s hands on the steering wheel.

They were calloused and rough from years of hard work.

He had spent months pretending to be a low-income handyman just to gather the proof he needed.

He had let them treat him like garbage so he could protect our future.

“Do you think she will try to run?” I asked.

“She has nowhere to go,” my father said.

“Her passport is flagged, and she has no access to funds.”

“Martin is going to prison for a long time.”

We pulled into the parking lot of our modest apartment building.

It was a far cry from the Collins estate, but it felt safe.

My father turned off the ignition, and the truck went silent.