Colonel Vance scrambled backward, knocking his chair over, but the FBI agents were already on him, locking cuffs around his wrists.

Celeste’s face turned the color of wet ash. She clutched the edge of her table, knuckles white.

“This is absurd!” she shrieked, dropping the grieving-mother act entirely. “He’s lying! The family trust — I have the wealth! I have the power!”

“The Harrington trust is a rotting corpse,” Caleb said, his voice booming over the noise and forcing the room quiet. He reached into his pack and handed a second, massive leather folder to the bailiff.

“Those are the certified financial records and property deeds of Shadowbox LLC. For seven years my mother has taken out illegal, high-interest shadow mortgages against family properties she had no authority to leverage.

She is completely insolvent.”