I knew something was wrong before my mother looked up from the kitchen floor.

While the county deputies transported Wendy to the central holding facility downtown, Arthur and I didn't celebrate. We got into his black sedan and drove straight to the commercial district in downtown Charleston.

It was 7:45 AM.

Marcus Vance’s office was situated on the third floor of a weathered brick building on Broad Street—a boutique real estate firm that served as a front for his illegal title-washing syndicate.

We parked across the street, watching through the rain-streaked windshield.

At precisely 7:52 AM, a silver luxury sedan pulled into the alleyway behind the building. Marcus Vance stepped out, wearing an expensive tailored suit, carrying a leather briefcase, holding a cup of gourmet coffee. He looked smug, relaxed, and entirely convinced that within twenty minutes, Wendy would arrive with the stolen deed to a million-dollar estate.

"He has no idea the wire was tapped," Arthur chuckled softly, pulling out his tablet. "The district attorney authorized a simultaneous federal raid fifteen minutes ago."

Before Marcus could key his security code into the back door of his office, three unmarked black vans turned sharply into the narrow alleyway, blocking his vehicle completely.

Six federal agents from the IRS Criminal Investigation Division and state police officers swarmed the alley with weapons drawn.

"Marcus Vance!" an agent shouted through a megaphone. "Federal search warrant! Drop the briefcase and put your hands behind your head!"

Marcus froze, dropping his coffee cup onto the damp gravel. The hot liquid splashed over his leather shoes as his face turned a terrifying shade of pale yellow. He tried to reach for his car door, but two agents tackled him onto the hood of his luxury car, slamming his face against the polished metal.

"What is this?!" Marcus screamed, his voice muffled against the hood. "I’m a licensed attorney! You can't do this!"

"You were a licensed attorney, Marcus," Arthur said, stepping out of our sedan and walking into the alleyway, flashing his prosecutor credentials. "Until your partner, Wendy Sterling, surrendered her phone forty-five minutes ago during her felony arrest."

Marcus turned his head sideways on the hood, his eyes widening in pure horror as he saw me standing beside Arthur, holding a hard drive containing every single text message, offshore bank transfer, and forged title document he had generated over the last eighteen months.

"Luca..." Marcus stammered, his arrogance evaporating into pathetic panic. "Listen to me... it was all Wendy! She came to me! She said you were abusing her! She said she needed help getting her money out!"