My son and daughter-in-law laughed when I walked into the courtroom. “Ha-ha, now we’re going to leave her with nothing,” Daniel whispered, certain the bruises they had put on my body would convince the judge I was confused, unstable, and hurting myself, but they had forgotten one important thing about me hajaji.

The balance on it was wrong by exactly eighty thousand dollars.

Three days later, Daniel referenced that exact false number while speaking privately with Vanessa.

That told me where they were searching.

So I created another document.

A fake letter from my investment adviser.

It mentioned a nonexistent certificate of deposit worth $600,000.

I placed it inside Robert’s desk.

Two nights later, Daniel broke into the office.

He found it.

And searched for the account.

There was no account.

But the online inquiry was logged.

From Daniel’s home IP address.

At 11:48 p.m.

Using a scanned copy of my driver’s license.

A copy that had been stored inside my locked desk.

By then, I knew this was bigger than impatient heirs.

It was financial exploitation.

Maybe fraud.

Maybe identity theft.

So I contacted someone I had trained years ago.

Maya Ortiz.

A forensic investigator specializing in elder abuse.