Chapter 7 — The Ledger Comes Due

In a fluorescent-lit interrogation room at the federal courthouse, Daniel sat in an oversized orange jumpsuit, looking ten years older, his styled haircut greasy and flat, his swagger beaten out of him by the weight of the system.

His defense attorney — a weary public defender, because every cent of his assets, legitimate and not, had been frozen under RICO — slid a document across the scratched metal table.

“Vanessa took the plea deal, Daniel,” the lawyer said, rubbing his eyes. “She turned state’s evidence this morning. Handed over all her communications, hours of audio where you spell out forging Colonel Shaw’s signature, and the offshore routing numbers.

She threw you under the bus to save herself.”

Daniel stared at the paper, his cuffed hands shaking.

“It gets worse,” the lawyer went on. “The FBI raided your mother’s estate this morning. The house was seized as proceeds of a crime. They confiscated a diamond-and-emerald brooch off Eleanor’s person — traced straight to the embezzled funds.