I had initiated the freezing of all secondary accounts five minutes ago.

He tapped the screen, his fingers shaking so violently he dropped the device onto the wet grass.

He snatched it up, wiping the screen against his sleeve, his eyes wide as he read the notification.

His face drained of what little color it had left.

The bank alert informed him that the primary line of credit for the Lakewood house, the lease agreements on his Mercedes, and his corporate expense accounts had been suspended.

They were all registered under the Mercer Holdings LLC, an entity he had never questioned because he assumed it was a standard tax shelter my family owned.

He did not know the LLC was directly tied to my military pension and the defense consultancy contracts I had spent fifteen years building.

The two men in suits walked past him without a word.

The lead agent, Special Agent Vance, stepped onto the porch and knocked twice on the heavy oak door.

I clicked the electronic release on my desk, and the deadbolts slid back with a heavy, metallic clack.