Ethan tore open the envelope and scanned the first page, his expression tightening with every line. “You froze the accounts.”

“The bank froze the accounts.”

“You had no authority.”

“I didn’t need any. Daniel reported the forged signatures, and the bank identified the transfers.”

Ethan turned to the camera. “You think this makes you clever?” he shouted. “You think these people care about you? They’re using you.”

I watched from Chicago and said nothing. He wanted me to call. He wanted an argument, because arguments created opportunities. Silence gave him nothing.