She pressed a button and held the phone to her ear.

“Send them down,” she said into the receiver. “Now.”

Nathan grabbed my hand, his palm warm and sweaty.

“We need to get to the lobby,” he whispered.

“What about the security guards?” I asked, clutching the papers to my chest.

“They won’t risk a scene in front of the bank staff,” Nathan said.

We moved toward the doorway, but Eleanor’s two guards shifted to block the exit.

“Step aside,” Nathan said, his voice rising.

“I suggest you listen to your mother, Mr. Vance,” one of the men said.

Before Nathan could answer, the heavy glass doors at the end of the hallway rattled.

A young man in a worn denim jacket slipped through the security gate, ignoring the shouts of the teller.

It was my brother, Johnny.

“Emily! Nathan!” Johnny called out, his voice echoing in the marble hallway.

“Johnny, get out of here!” I yelled.

Johnny didn’t listen; he kept walking toward the vault, his boots thudding against the stone.

“What is going on here?” Johnny asked, looking at the guards blocking our path.