The phone vibrated again, sliding an inch across the polished glass table.

Daniel’s hand hovered near his pocket, but he did not touch the device.

“Turn it off,” Miller said, his voice flat.

Daniel reached out with a trembling finger, swiped the screen, and placed the phone face down.

The silence in the room returned, heavy and cold.

I looked down at the paper Arthur had handed me.

The forensic accountant had found the secondary domestic accounts under a dummy corporation called DC Holdings.

It held exactly three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, transferred directly from my late aunt’s trust account.

“They found the DC Holdings account, Daniel,” I said.

My husband’s breath hitched.

His mother, Margaret, leaned forward, her pearls clicking against the edge of the table.

“What does that mean?” Margaret asked, looking between her husband and her son. “Daniel, what is she talking about?”

Richard Carter did not look at his wife.

The retired banker sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the manila folder in front of Arthur.

“It means bank fraud,” Arthur said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “It means interstate wire fraud.”