I came home and my dog was gone. My mom told me, "We sold it. Your sister's kids needed new phones. You'll get over it." I asked once, "Where is he?" They laughed it off. I didn't. 2 days later...

Ray was escorted out through the secure side exit by the State Troopers, his jacket draped over his cuffed hands, his eyes fixed on the linoleum floor, refusing to look at the reporters shouting questions about the diesel fuel syndicate.

Brenda sat on a wooden bench near the elevators, weeping into an embroidered handkerchief. The aristocratic mask had shattered completely, leaving behind a terrified, aging woman who realized that every country club tea, every garden committee, and every bridge circle she had spent her life cultivating was going to close its doors in her face by noon.

Emma stood ten feet away, clutching Paisley and Harper to her sides, her eyes darting frantically toward the exit.

I walked down the hallway toward them, Charlie heeling perfectly at my left side. He walked with his head up, his coat shining, completely unfazed by the crowd.

When Paisley saw Charlie, she let out a small, breathless gasp. "Charlie..."

She took half a step forward, her hand reaching out toward his soft golden ears.

"Paisley, don't you dare touch that dirty mutt!" Emma snarled, yanking the girl back by her wrist with a vicious, jerking motion.

Emma turned on me, her teeth bared, her face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated venom. "Are you happy now, Bobby?! Look what you did! You destroyed our father! You destroyed this family! Dad is going to prison, Mom’s pension is going to be frozen, and everyone in this town is going to look at my girls like they're trash!"

I stopped four feet from her. Charlie sat down immediately at my heel, leaning his weight against my calf, calm, solid, and immovable.

"I didn't steal the diesel, Emma," I said quietly. "And I didn't chain a ninety-pound dog to a steel axle in eighteen-degree weather."

"You did this out of spite!" Emma screamed, tears of rage cutting through her foundation. "Because you're jealous! You've always been jealous of me! Because Mom and Dad loved me more! Because I had a family and you were just a pathetic loser whose girlfriend walked out on him!"

"Mom and Dad didn't love you, Emma," I said, my voice completely level, stripped of all anger, carrying only the cold, unyielding weight of truth. "They used you to make themselves feel successful. And you used them to avoid ever having to grow up."

I looked down at Paisley and Harper. Both girls were staring at the floor, clutching their glittery phones against their chests like shields, their faces pale and confused.

"Hand them over," I said.

Emma blinked, stepping back defensively. "What?!"

"The phones," I said. "Hand them over."

"You can't touch these phones!" Emma shrieked. "These were a gift from Grandma! You have no right—"

"Those devices were purchased with the physical proceeds of a Class 3 felony," Assistant Attorney General Mercer said, appearing behind my shoulder, holding an official evidence forfeiture order signed by the presiding judge. "Under the Commonwealth's asset forfeiture guidelines, any property acquired through the liquidation of stolen assets is subject to immediate summary impoundment. Hand the devices to the officer, Mrs. Vance, or you will be cited for obstruction of justice on the spot."

A uniformed bailiff stepped forward, his hand open.

Emma looked at Mercer. She looked at the bailiff. She looked at the news cameras filming every second from fifteen feet away.

Her jaw worked soundlessly. With trembling, furious fingers, she snatched the phones from her daughters' hands and slammed them into the bailiff's palm.

"There!" Emma spat, her voice cracking into a ragged, pathetic sob. "Take them! Take everything! I hope you rot in hell, Bobby!"

She grabbed her daughters' arms and dragged them toward the stairwell, her heels clicking violently against the marble, leaving behind only the echo of her screaming and her mother's quiet, broken weeping by the elevators.

I didn't watch her go.