“Multiple people,” I said. “I need an asset lockdown, fraud filings, and an immediate residential strategy shift.”
He was fully awake by the end of my first sentence.
I walked him through everything: Donna’s foreclosure, the gambling debt, the stolen credit, the fake agreement, the plan to intoxicate me into signing, Marcus’s proof, the urgency. When I finished, he said quietly, “That family tried to rob a forensic investigator. The confidence is almost artistic.”
“We freeze the credit first,” I said.
“Already drafting the packets.”
“I’m changing every password tied to the company.”
“Do it.”
“I’m stripping Ryan off the household account.”
“Leave him something symbolic. Judges appreciate irony.”
I logged in and transferred everything out except eight hundred dollars—the exact monthly amount Ryan loved to cite whenever he wanted to pretend he was carrying part of my life.