The call woke me at 2:14 a.m., and by 2:16, I was certain I was making an arrest before sunrise.

At 5:00 AM, the sun was just beginning to bleed over the city skyline. A dozen heavily armed FBI SWAT agents stacked up outside Suite 402 of the Grand Marquis hotel. I stood in the center, my heart pounding a violent rhythm against my ribs.

Miller held up three fingers. Two. One.

The heavy steel battering ram shattered the door frame. "FBI! Nobody move!"

We flooded into the luxury suite. Mark shot up from the king-sized bed, naked, screaming in terror. He reached for a drawer, but two agents tackled him to the floor, pinning him face-down on the expensive Persian rug.

"Mark Davis," Miller announced, standing over him. "You are under arrest for federal money laundering, conspiracy to commit murder, and racketeering."

Mark struggled against the zip-ties cutting into his wrists. "This is insane! I want my lawyer! Sterling will destroy you for this!"

I walked out from behind the tactical team, looking down at the man who had tormented my sister.

"Sterling can't help you, Mark," I said softly. "The FBI is currently raiding his office too. Turns out, your high-priced lawyer was the one setting up your offshore shell companies."

Mark’s face went entirely white. The arrogant, wealthy abuser was gone. In his place was a pathetic, terrified criminal who finally realized he had lost everything.