During a business trip, I found a homeless woman holding a hungry baby, desperately trying to buy formula. Then I realized she was my daughter. She was supposed to be living in New York. She cried, “Dad... they abandoned me here.” That was the moment everything changed....

Jason stood in the doorway of the study, wearing a tailored black coat, holding a sleek black pistol aimed directly at my chest.

Behind him stood Patricia, wearing a fur cloak, holding a glass of scotch in her hand. Her face was twisted into a triumphant, grotesque smile.

"David," Patricia purred, taking a slow sip. "You really should have stayed in the Midwest. The FBI is looking everywhere for you, and here you are... breaking into my son's home like a common thief."

"Lower the gun, Jason," I said, keeping my hands visible, my fingers firmly gripping the silver hard drive behind my back.

"Why should I?" Jason chuckled, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger. "You're a fleeing felon, David. You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night. If I shoot you right now, it’s self-defense. The police will give me a medal."

"You used my daughter," I said, stepping forward slowly. "You used her to steal from my company, and then you tried to destroy her mind so she couldn't stop you."

"She was stupid!" Jason spat, his eyes wide with unhinged rage. "She sat at home all day doing her pathetic little graphic design projects while I did the real work! I deserved that money! Vanguard has billions! What did you get after twenty years? A gold watch and a pension?!"

"He's right, David," Patricia chimed in, walking closer to her son. "My boy is destined for greatness. You were just a stepping stone. And once we take custody of little Maya, we'll draw down the trust fund your company set up for her too. You’ve been very generous to our family."

The sheer disgust inside me boiled over.

"You're not taking my granddaughter," I said.

Jason raised the barrel to point directly between my eyes. "Say goodbye, David."

CRASH.

The glass window of the living room shattered behind us. A flashbang grenade exploded in the main hallway with a deafening BOOM, illuminating the apartment in blinding white light and shockwaves of noise.

Jason screamed, grabbing his ears, his gun discharging wildly into the ceiling.

"FBI! DON'T MOVE!" shouted a chorus of voices through the smoke.

Tactical officers in full body armor swarmed through the shattered French doors, laser sights painting the walls red.

I dropped to the floor, covering my head, as three agents tackled Jason to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back and snapping hand-cuffs onto his wrists. Patricia screamed as her scotch glass shattered against the floor, two female agents forcing her against the wall.

A tall man in a navy trench coat walked through the smoke, stepping over the broken glass.

He looked down at me. "David Bennett?"

"Yes," I gasped, catching my breath.

The man pulled out a badge. "I'm Special Agent Rodriguez, FBI Financial Crimes Task Force. Your friend Sarah Jennings called us twenty minutes ago with a live stream of your conversation."