The toys were still in my hands when I saw her. Barefoot on the cold marble, in her wrinkled yellow dress, picking dry dog food out of the bowl with fingers that wouldn't stop shaking.

The truth about Julian Vance was far uglier than Richard had initially anticipated.

Late Thursday night, Marcus returned to the basement security hub with a final, encrypted dossier. He tossed it onto the metal table where Richard was reviewing the camera blind spots in the grand ballroom.

"You're going to want to see this, boss," Marcus said, his voice laced with disgust.

Richard opened the file. It contained high-resolution surveillance photos, intercepted emails, and heavily redacted financial records.

"Julian Vance isn't just her financial advisor or her lover," Marcus explained, leaning over the table. "He's the architect of the entire scam. They've run this play three times on the East Coast. They target wealthy, grieving widowers. Eleanor plays the perfect, loving replacement. Julian manages the backend, siphoning funds into offshore accounts. Once the mark marries her, she initiates a slow, untraceable poisoning using heavy metals. The husband dies of a sudden 'heart attack,' and the grieving widow inherits the empire."

Richard stared at the photographs of Eleanor and Julian meeting in a secluded hotel bar downtown, laughing over expensive cocktails while his daughter starved on the floor of his kitchen.

"They isolate the children to break their spirit, making sure they don't complain to the father or cause a scene," Marcus continued grimly. "They were going to drain your accounts, kill you on the honeymoon, and dump Sophie into a state-run facility before the ink on the death certificate was even dry."

The sheer, breathtaking audacity of the grift settled over Richard like a heavy, suffocating blanket of ice. They had walked into the home of a former mafia kingpin and thought they could play him for a fool.

"They have no idea who they are dealing with," Richard whispered, closing the file.

"Julian thinks he's walking into a celebration on Saturday," Marcus smirked, a dangerous glint in his scarred eye. "He thinks he's going to walk out a billionaire."

"He won't be walking anywhere," Richard stated coldly. "Tell the men to prep the holding cells at the harbor warehouse. When the party ends, I want Julian Vance delivered there. Intact."