My adult niece visited me after my stroke and told the doctor, “Aunt Helen can’t make decisions anymore.” Then she smiled and asked me to blink if I understood. I blinked once. She thought that meant yes. It actually activated the communication board where I had already typed: call my lawyer now.

The next morning, Evelyn arrived with an FBI agent in a dark suit.

“Arthur, this is Special Agent Reynolds from the Financial Crimes Division,” Evelyn introduced him. “I briefed him on Julian’s corporate debts. We also pulled the security footage from the hallway last night. We know Julian was here.”

I used my right hand—which had finally regained enough gross motor function to hold a stylus—to tap out a message on a specialized keyboard Marcus had brought me.

H-E H-A-S A F-O-R-G-E-D P-O-A. H-E I-S G-O-I-N-G F-O-R T-H-E O-M-E-G-A A-C-C-O-U-N-T.

Evelyn explained to the agent. “The Omega Account is a corporate reserve fund. It holds exactly five million dollars. It requires a hard-copy Power of Attorney to access. If Julian uses a forged document to initiate a transfer across international lines, it triggers a mandatory federal felony charge.”

“We’ve flagged the account,” Agent Reynolds said, looking at me with deep respect. “The moment he attempts to wire those funds to the Caymans, the system will freeze the transfer, and we will have him dead to rights on felony forgery, embezzlement, and wire fraud.”

“Let’s give him a clear runway,” Evelyn smiled. “I’ll call the bank manager and tell him not to block any requests from Julian today. Let him think he’s won.”