“You think you’re safe because you helped him?” she asked him.

“You think they won’t turn on you next?”

Ramiro did not answer.

He kept his hands folded in front of him, his expression completely blank.

“Ramiro has been with this family for fifteen years,” my father said.

“He saw through you the moment you arrived.”

My father took another step down the stairs.

He looked at the officers.

“Do you have the documents from the bank?” he asked.

The officer with the gray hair nodded.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small manila folder.

“We have the signed authorization forms she tried to submit this morning,” the officer said.

“She used a forged signature to attempt a transfer of twelve million dollars from your personal reserve.”

“The transfer was flagged by our cyber division before it could clear.”

Patricia stared at the folder in the officer’s hand.

Her fingers curled into tight fists.

“The signature was valid,” she muttered.

“Emiliano signed those papers last month.”

“I signed authorization for a charity foundation, Patricia,” my father said.

“Not for a private account in the Cayman Islands.”