Chapter 2 - The Sound of Panic
At exactly 12:14 PM, my phone screen lit up with my mother’s contact photo.
I let it ring until it went to voicemail, staring at the screen with absolute coldness.
She called three more times in rapid succession, her desperation bleeding through the digital signals.
When she finally left a voice message, her tone was a pathetic mixture of fake sweetness and rising hysteria.
She claimed there was a "glitch" with the bank and asked if I could lend them some cash for the weekend.
I deleted the message without listening to the end.
Meanwhile, the security contractor, David, was busy installing high-definition cameras around my property perimeter.
He reinforced the doors with steel plates and upgraded the locks to a biometric system.
Nana sat by the window, watching the men work with a mixture of awe and sorrow.
She asked me if all of this was truly necessary for her own children.
I reminded her of the freezing cold morning and the suitcases left in the snow.
That memory alone was enough to harden her resolve and dry her tears.
The forensic accountant I hired sent an encrypted email confirming offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands.
My father had been funneling Nana's money into a shell corporation under a fake name.
This wasn't just elder abuse or casual theft anymore.
This was federal wire fraud and massive tax evasion.
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I forwarded the evidence to Marcus with a single instruction to prepare the civil suits.
The criminal charges would come later, when they were completely broken.
