Ryan: You planned this... you planned this for months, didn't you?
Claire: I started investigating the day you slammed the breakfast table last month because I asked to see the quarterly dividend reports.
Ryan: One question made you hire forensic accountants?!
Claire: An innocent man doesn't scream and break china when his wife asks a simple financial question, Ryan.
Auditor 1: Mr. Vance, your ten minutes start now. We will accompany you to the master bedroom while you pack your permitted personal items.
Ryan: I want my personal laptop from the nightstand!
Auditor 1: All electronic devices on this property are currently under a federal preservation order. You cannot remove any laptops, tablets, or external hard drives.
Ryan let out a desperate, strangled sound, turning slowly to walk up the stairs with two auditors following closely behind his every step.
Claire walked back into the bright dining room, stepping over the broken glass and spilled coffee on the hardwood floor.
She picked up a small silver photo frame from the sideboard—a picture taken on their wedding day three years ago—and quietly slid the photo out of the metal frame.
She folded the picture in half and dropped it straight into the black trash bin near the kitchen door.
Chloe came running down the stairs, holding her white tablet and a stack of personal banking folders in her hands.
Sister: Here, Mr. Miller! Here are all my accounts! You can see every transfer Ryan made into my name since last January!
Auditor 2: Thank you, Ms. Vance. Step into the library and our legal assistant will take your formal statement.
Sister: Claire... I am so sorry. I truly didn't know he was stealing from your family.
Claire: You enjoyed the benefits without asking where the money came from, Chloe. But at least you had the sense to tell the truth today.
Sister: What is going to happen to Ryan?
Claire: The law will take its course, Chloe. He made his choices, and now he has to face the consequences.
From the top of the staircase, Ryan walked down slowly holding a small grey duffel bag, his face pale and eyes sunken.
Two uniformed state troopers stepped through the front entrance, their heavy boots thudding against the marble floor.
Trooper 1: Ryan Vance?
Ryan: Yes...
Trooper 1: We have an arrest warrant issued by the county prosecutor for grand larceny, forgery, and corporate identity theft. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.
Ryan: Claire! Tell them to give me till tomorrow! Let me call my corporate lawyer first!
Claire: Your corporate lawyer resigned thirty minutes ago, Ryan. He saw the video recording from the library.
The steel handcuffs clicked shut around Ryan's wrists with a loud, sharp snap that echoed across the high ceilings of the mansion.
Ryan: You ruined me, Claire! You destroyed my life!
Claire: You destroyed your own life the day you decided to forge my name, Ryan. I am just cleaning up the mess.
The troopers grabbed Ryan's arms, leading him out through the wide front double doors toward the waiting patrol cars on the circular driveway.