“Richard, what is she talking about? Daniel is a legitimate businessman.”

“Your son is a thief, Margaret,” I said, keeping my tone completely even.

“And your husband was the one who taught him how to falsify the collateral documents.”

Richard stood up, his joints cracking in the quiet room.

He looked every one of his seventy-two years, his shoulders hunched inside his tailored tweed jacket.

“That was thirty years of spotless service at the bank,” Richard said, his voice rising slightly.

“I built a reputation in this city. I advised the mayor. I sat on the board of the hospital.”

“And you used your position to approve dummy loans for Daniel’s first three shell companies,” I said.

I tapped the blue folder on the desk with my index finger.

“It is all in here, Richard. The routing numbers, the authorization codes you signed, and the ledger transfer dates.”

Margaret took another step forward, her eyes darting to the folder.

“We can burn it,” she whispered frantically.

“We can destroy whatever she has.”

“It is a copy, Margaret,” I said, resisting the urge to smile at her desperation.