The Bellrose Grand had been built to make ordinary people feel as though they had accidentally walked into somebody else’s life.

Four weeks later, the final blow arrived.

The sun was shining brightly through the high windows of the ninth-floor executive office. The grey cardboard boxes were gone, replaced by neat, organized rows of blue leather files containing the company's newly audited accounts.

I sat behind my mother's mahogany desk—now my desk—reviewing a new development proposal for an eco-friendly resort project in Oregon that my mother had shelved five years ago.

Arthur Hart walked into the office carrying a brown leather briefcase.

He looked pleased. His white hair was combed neatly, and his blue eyes were sharp with satisfaction as he sat in the leather armchair across from me.

"The grand jury returned the indictments an hour ago," Arthur announced, setting his briefcase on his knees.

I set my pen down. "How many counts?"

"Fourteen counts for Adrian Mercer," Arthur said, reading from a white document he pulled from his briefcase. "Including wire fraud, grand larceny, corporate embezzlement, falsification of business records, and criminal conspiracy. Eleven counts for Julian Mercer, primarily focused on the forged power of attorney documents and the illegal server asset transfers."

"Are they in custody?"

"They turned themselves in at the central precinct at eight thirty this morning," Arthur replied. "Bail was set at five million dollars each. Given that we froze all their domestic bank accounts two weeks ago, they won't be posting bail anytime soon. They’ll be spending the next several months in a state remand facility while their defense attorneys attempt to negotiate a plea deal."

I looked out the window at the city skyline, feeling a quiet, heavy silence settle over me.

There was no joy in hearing about their arrest. Adrian had been a fixture of my childhood. He had attended my college graduation. He had delivered a eulogy at my mother's funeral that had brought half the room to tears.

To see a man destroy his own life, his son's future, and twenty years of professional standing out of sheer, unadulterated greed was simply sad.

"Did Adrian say anything?" I asked softly.

Arthur paused, looking at me gently. "His attorney reached out to me twenty minutes ago. Adrian requested a brief private meeting with you before he is transferred to the county facility."

I looked at Arthur in surprise. "A meeting?"

"He claims he has information regarding your mother's final days that wasn't included in the official medical record," Arthur said carefully. "You are under zero obligation to see him, Marina. The court order is absolute. You don't owe him a single second of your time."

I stared at the white paper on Arthur's desk, my pulse quickening slightly.

Information regarding her final days.

My mother had died suddenly, quietly, in her sleep. The doctors had insisted her heart simply gave out under the weight of decades of high-stress corporate work. But there had always been a small, dark shadow of doubt lingering in the back of my mind—a fear that her sudden decline was somehow linked to the stress Adrian was placing on her behind closed doors.