I stood in the shadowed doorway of the outdoor kitchen, watching the steam rise into the cool night air.

I stared at the financial documents spread across the glass table. Four million dollars stolen. A fake divorce scheme used to terrorize my wife. An illegal attempt to steal my real estate holdings.

I looked at Emma. “What do you think we should do?”

Emma looked at the paper showing her forged signature. The anger that had been buried inside her for five years finally flashed in her eyes.

“They showed no mercy to me, Arthur,” Emma said softly, her voice steady and resolute. “They treated me like I was trash. If you protect them now, they will only try to ruin us again later.”

I turned back to Pendelton. “File the criminal complaints. Authorize full asset freezing orders on every bank account associated with Margaret, Jennifer, and Michael Vance.”

“Right away, sir,” Pendelton replied.

However, my family wasn't going down without a fight.

By two o'clock that afternoon, a media storm erupted across Dallas.

Jennifer had contacted a local sensationalist news outlet, putting our mother on television. Margaret sat on a couch in a modest hotel room, weeping uncontrollably into a handkerchief while Jennifer stood beside her, looking devastated.

“Billionaire Restaurant Tycoon Throws Elderly Mother into the Street!” the headline read across the screen.

“My son Arthur came home from Europe transformed by greed!” Margaret sobbed to the news camera. “He threw me out of my own home in the middle of the night! He beat his own brother Michael and had him arrested! And his wife, Emma, has been manipulating him, driving a wedge between a loving mother and her son!”

The story went viral across local news platforms within hours. Boycott calls were issued against my local restaurant locations in downtown Dallas. Internet trolls flooded my company’s social media pages with hateful comments, calling me a "monster" and a "sociopath."

My public relations director, Sarah, rushed into my office, looking frantic.

“Mr. Vance! We’re losing the public narrative!” Sarah warned, tapping her tablet screen. “Local news channels are requesting statements. Three major corporate sponsors for your upcoming luxury culinary showcase are threatening to pull out if we don't resolve this family scandal immediately!”

I sat behind my mahogany desk, completely unbothered.

“Let them talk,” I said calmly.

“Sir?” Sarah blinked, stunned. “They’re destroying your brand!”

“They’re digging their own graves,” I corrected her. “Jennifer and my mother think they can win this in the court of public opinion because they assume I don't have evidence. They forgot that every room on my Dallas estate is equipped with high-definition, cloud-backed security cameras.”