A billionaire hit the pavement in the middle of Linden Park, blood at his temple, a seventy-thousand-dollar watch flashing in the sun... and people stepped around him like he was trash.

The heavy rain was drumming against the high glass windows of the estate when the glass in the conservatory shattered with a loud, violent crack.

Ethan stood at the top of the grand marble staircase. He wasn't armed with a gun, but standing beside him were three heavy-set private security officers armed with stun devices and high-intensity flashlights.

Below in the dim light of the foyer, a figure moved through the shadows.

It was a man wearing a wet black hoodie, holding a heavy iron crowbar in one hand and a high-end digital camera in the other.

"Victor Vance," Ethan’s voice boomed down from the balcony, loud as thunder.

The intruder froze, raising the camera beam toward the staircase. It was indeed Victor Vance—the man from the park who had started the online smear campaign. His face was flushed, his eyes wild with a strange, obsessive anger.

"Caldwell!" Vance shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Where are they?! Where are those little thieves?!"

"You picked the wrong house to break into, Victor," Ethan said coldly, descending the stairs slowly, flanked by security officers. "Drop the crowbar."

"You're a fraud, Caldwell!" Vance screamed, waving the iron bar wildly. "You set this whole thing up! I know you did! You staged that heart attack in Linden Park to push through the city council's land redevelopment plan! You bought those kids from the shelter to play the hero on national television!"

"You're insane," Marissa said, stepping onto the balcony with her tablet, live-streaming the entire break-in directly to the police department’s central dispatch. "The officers are thirty seconds away, Vance."

"I came for the proof!" Vance yelled, lunging toward the hallway that led to the guest suites. "I’m going to show the world what you really are!"

Before Vance could take three steps, the lead security officer stepped forward, fired his taser, and sent fifty thousand volts of electricity coursing through Vance’s frame.

Vance let out a strangulated cry, dropped the iron bar, and crashed face-first onto the marble floor.

Within seconds, the security guards pinned him down, securing his wrists with heavy industrial zip-ties just as police cruisers screeched up the brick driveway, their red and blue lights painting the high foyer windows in pulsing color.

Ethan walked down the remaining stairs, standing over the groaning, writhing man on the floor.

He knelt beside Vance, pulling the intruder’s camera from his wet hands.

"You thought this was about land deals and public relations," Ethan whispered, his voice dangerously low. "You thought those children were just chess pieces you could use to get famous on the internet."

He leaned closer.

"I am going to make sure every attorney in Ohio uses your name as a textbook definition of criminal harassment, felony burglary, and child endangerment. You will spend the next fifteen years in a state penitentiary thinking about Linden Park."

The police burst through the doors, taking custody of Vance and dragging him out into the stormy night.

Ethan turned back toward the stairs. At the top of the landing, two small figures stood holding hands in their pajamas, watching silently through the wooden banisters.