At 3 a.m., I received a call from my mother—her voice trembling: "Help... me." I drove 300 miles through a blizzard and found her standing outside the hospital gates in the freezing darkness—barefoot, covered in bruises, abandoned by her stepfather and her own son. So I made sure they suffered ten times that pain.

At 4:00 p.m., Ray Vance sat in his locked living room, drinking straight bourbon from a crystal tumbler. The curtains were drawn tight against the afternoon sun. Outside, news vans from regional television stations were beginning to gather near his driveway.

Word of the federal audit at St. Catherine’s and the corruption scandal involving Judge Harrison had leaked to the press.

The front door unlocked, and Daniel burst in, frantic and pale.

"Ray! We have to leave!" Daniel screamed, throwing a duffel bag onto the couch. "The police are outside my apartment! The bank canceled my credit cards! My car was just repossessed by a tow truck at the gas station!"

Ray didn't move. He sat in his leather armchair, staring at a piece of paper that had been hand-delivered to his door twenty minutes earlier.

"Ray! Are you listening to me?!" Daniel yelled, grabbing Ray's shoulder. "We need to get to the airport! We can take your boat to the Bahamas!"

Ray slowly raised his eyes, looking at Daniel with a cold, hollow gaze. "There is no boat, Daniel."

"What?"

"The bank seized the marina slip," Ray said, his voice flat. "They seized the office building. They seized this house."

"They can't do that!" Daniel cried out. "The mortgage is in good standing!"

"It was in good standing," Ray corrected, tossing the paper onto the coffee table. "Until Northstar bought the primary note from First National. They called in the emergency acceleration clause based on the felony fraud charges filed against me today. They gave us two hours to vacate the premises."

Daniel dropped to the floor, pulling at his hair. "No... no, no, no! This can't be happening! Maya can't do this! We’re her family!"

"Family?" Ray suddenly burst into a hysterical, bitter laugh. "She hates us, Daniel! She’s spent fifteen years building a financial war machine, and we just handed her the target!"

Suddenly, a loud, authoritative knock echoed through the front door.

"Raymond Vance! Daniel Vance!" a voice boomed through a megaphone outside. "This is the State Police and the Federal Bureau of Investigation! We have a warrant for your arrest! Step out with your hands visible!"

Daniel gasped, backing away toward the kitchen. "Ray... do something! You said you had connections! You said you owned this town!"

Ray stood up slowly, putting down his glass. He walked over to his wall safe, unlocked it, and pulled out a thick manila envelope containing his remaining offshore documentation.

"I owned the town when people were afraid of me, Daniel," Ray said softly. He looked at his stepson, a cold, calculating expression returning to his eyes. "But now... I only need to save myself."

Ray opened the side door leading to the garage, stepping through and locking the door behind him, leaving Daniel trapped in the living room as the front door began to yield under the force of a police battering ram.

"Ray!" Daniel screamed, beating his fists against the locked garage door. "Ray! Don't leave me! RAY!"

The front door splintered open. Federal agents flooded the entryway, guns drawn.