The sheer scale of the fraud was breathtaking.

My father had sold his family, his business, and his own wife’s memory to satisfy a group of offshore lenders.

“This is enough to secure a federal indictment under the RICO Act,” I said, my voice steady. “The prosecutors will not need a trial. They will have a confession in these numbers.”

Gabriel’s phone buzzed on the table again, the screen casting a cold blue light across our papers.

He picked it up and read the screen, his jaw tightening.

“My contact at the courthouse just sent an update,” Gabriel said.

“Has Ethan been released?” I asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “He left through the basement exit five minutes ago. A private town car picked him up.”

“And my father?” I asked.

“His attorneys are filing an emergency petition for bail right now,” Gabriel said. “They are arguing that his medical condition makes incarceration a liability.”

“He is not sick,” I said, my hands clenching into fists. “He is trying to buy time to clean up his tracks.”

Gabriel walked to the window, looking down at the street below.