Part 2: I walked into my own house expecting a family celebration, but instead found my exhausted wife washing dishes with our feverish baby in her arms.

By 8:00 AM the following morning, Richard arrived at the penthouse alongside Agent Harris and two forensic accountants. They spread dozens of files across the marble island in the kitchen while Amy remained asleep in the master bedroom, Frederick dozing peacefully in his crib after a full night of uninterrupted rest.

"Here’s the full picture," Agent Harris began, sliding an eight-page dossier toward me. "Your mother and brother weren't just acting out of entitled family jealousy. They were entirely leveraged."

I stared at the financial statements. Mason had racked up over four hundred thousand dollars in gambling debts at high-stakes offshore sportsbooks. Evelyn’s boutique business in town had gone belly up six months ago, accumulating second mortgages and unpaid property taxes exceeding six figures.

"They were drowning," Richard said, tapping the documents with a gold pen. "And Uncle Dave offered them a lifeline. Dave had connections to an offshore investment consortium that wanted access to your logistics software algorithms. If Evelyn could pressure you into signing over equity or the house deed to clear their debts, Dave would sell the proprietary source code to a foreign buyer."

"And when I refused to sign the power of attorney papers yesterday?" I asked, my fists clenching until my knuckles cracked.

"They pivoted to the nuclear option," Agent Harris replied. "Drain your operational payroll accounts, initiate fraudulent transfers under your forged electronic signature, and leave you financially ruined while pinning the breach on corporate negligence. If your wife had taken Frederick to the hospital in the middle of their plan, the police would have arrived at the house early. That’s why Mason physically stopped her."

The calculated savagery of it took my breath away. They had put my six-month-old son’s life at risk to protect illegal gambling tabs and failed vanity projects.

"What about bail?" I asked Richard.

"Mason’s public defender requested an emergency reduction this morning, claiming he's an innocent bystander in a family dispute," Richard sneered. "Evelyn hired a private defense attorney using funds from an unknown account. The hearing is scheduled for two o'clock this afternoon. If Evelyn makes bail, she’ll do everything she can to coordinate with Dave before we freeze the remaining assets."

"Not on my watch," I said, grabbing my overcoat. "Richard, prep the security footage from the front porch and the living room nanny cam. We’re bringing every piece of evidence to that courtroom."

"Connor, wait," Agent Harris intervened, holding up a manila envelope. "There’s one more thing. When Dave fled, our field agents intercepted his private laptop before it was completely wiped. He had an informant inside your logistics company. Someone gave him your administrative multi-factor tokens."

I stared at Harris in disbelief. "Who?"

"Your chief financial controller, Bradley Cole," Harris said. "The man you hired four years ago."