“You can’t cut me off from something that doesn’t exist,” I said softly. “And I don’t owe you anything. But you owe the federal government quite a bit.”

Her breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

“Before Ethan died, he compiled all of this.” I tapped the folder. “He was preparing to hand it to the forensic unit at his firm and file a formal identity theft report.

He hesitated—because he knew what it would do to me to watch my own mother and brother go to prison. He wanted to give you the chance to confess and dissolve the entities legally.”

I closed the folder with a sharp thud.

“But Ethan is gone. And I don’t share his hesitation.”