“They do when it involves interstate wire fraud and international money laundering,” I said.

The phone vibrated again in my hand.

This time, the screen changed.

A text message appeared in bold white letters across the black background.

I stared at the words, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Ethan took another step forward, his hand reaching out to snatch the phone from my grip.

Before his fingers could touch the plastic casing, a loud, metallic clink echoed from the corridor outside the heavy steel door.

Ethan froze, his hand suspended inches from my face.

The sound repeated, sharper this time, like a heavy bolt sliding into a groove.

“Back away from her,” a voice boomed from the corridor.

The heavy steel door did not just open; it slammed against the drywall, sending a shower of white plaster dust over the carpet.

Men in dark tactical vests flooded the room, their weapons raised and pointed directly at Ethan’s chest.

“Federal agents! Don’t move!”

The yellow lettering on their backs spelled out FBI and IRS Criminal Investigation.

Ethan slowly raised his hands, his fingers trembling slightly as the bravado drained from his face.