Down below, the traffic on Brickell Avenue moved in a slow, glittering crawl.

“Which account, Dad?” I asked.

“Your emergency savings,” he said.

“The high-yield account you set up for your early retirement fund.”

“Luke said they transferred the bulk of it yesterday morning.”

I dropped back into my leather office chair.

My hand trembled slightly as I reached for my computer mouse.

I woke the screen and clicked on the bookmark for my primary bank.

My fingers felt numb as I typed in my password.

“Are you still there, Mark?” my father asked.

“I’m logging in now,” I said.

The security verification screen appeared, asking for a code sent to my phone.

I entered the six digits and waited for the main dashboard to load.

The blue loading circle spun on the screen.

It felt like it was taking hours.

“They think they can cover it before you notice,” my father said.

“They think they can replace it with some real estate investment Luke is trying to close.”

“It’s fraud, Dad,” I said.

The page finally loaded.

I scrolled down past my checking account, past my credit card balances.