General Vance stepped forward, his heavy boots leaving wet, muddy tracks on the white Persian rug.

“Mr. Monroe, stand back,” Vance said.

The authority in his voice made Grant stop instantly.

“Who the hell are you?” Grant asked, his eyes darting to the rows of ribbons on the general’s chest.

“I am General Vance, United States Army,” he said.

“This is an outrage,” Patricia said, her fingers clawing at her pearls. “We have deep connections in the Senate. You cannot just break into a private residence.”

I looked around the room, noting the French antiques and the oil paintings.

Everything in this room had been paid for with a currency they did not own.

“This is no longer a private residence,” I said.

I pulled a thick manila folder from under my arm and laid it on the mahogany console table.

“As of ten minutes ago, this property has been seized by the federal government,” I said.

Grant let out a dry, nervous laugh, looking around for support.

“On what grounds?” he asked. “This house belongs to my family’s holding company. I bought it myself.”

“You did,” I said.

I opened the folder, revealing a stack of bank transfers and corporate filings bearing a familiar name.

“You bought it using a shell company called Apex Logistics,” I said.

Grant’s left eyelid twitched.

“That is a legitimate business,” he said, though his voice had dropped an octave.

“It is a front,” General Vance said.

“We have been tracking the accounts for eighteen months,” I added.

I pointed to a signature at the bottom of the top page.

“You used my name to secure the defense contracts that funded that company,” I said.

“Your name?” Patricia scoffed, her face turning red. “You didn’t have a penny to your name, Allison.”

“No,” I said. “But I had security clearance.”