My brother threw me out of his wedding in front of twenty relatives after I paid more than $100,000 for it.

I couldn't fight a ghost, and I couldn't negotiate with a distorted voice. I needed to go to the source of the rot.

Four hours later, I was sitting in a stark, cinderblock visitation room at Allenwood Federal Correctional Institution. The air smelled of industrial bleach and stale despair.

The heavy steel door clanked open, and Julian walked in, escorted by a guard. He wore a standard-issue khaki jumpsuit, his hair cropped short, the arrogant swagger of his billionaire days replaced by a hollow, jittery tension.

He sat down across from me, a sneer twisting his lips.

"Well, well. The saintly brother graces me with a visit," Julian mocked, leaning back in his bolted chair. "Did you bring me a cake with a file in it, Arthur? Or just more of your suffocating self-righteousness?"

"I don't have time for your pathetic performance, Julian," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I saw the altered ledger. I know you set up the dummy corporation to frame my subsidiary before the feds raided the offices."

Julian’s sneer faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he masked it with bravado.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he lied smoothly. "I'm in here because you betrayed the family. I didn't frame anyone."

"Don't play stupid. Mother is using your forged fail-safe to blackmail me into surrendering my new company," I stated, leaning over the table, invading his space. "She wants to seize the housing project."

Julian stared at me, his brow furrowing in confusion. It wasn't the panicked confusion of a man caught in a lie; it was the genuine confusion of a man who was completely out of the loop.

"Mother?" Julian scoffed, a bitter, harsh laugh escaping his throat. "Are you insane, Arthur? Mother hasn't spoken to me in eight months. She completely cut me off the moment the judge handed down the sentence. I'm a convicted felon. I'm a stain on the immaculate Vance legacy. She didn't visit. She didn't call. She abandoned me."

I scrutinized his face. The bitterness was raw and undeniable. He wasn't lying. Beatrice wasn't orchestrating this from the shadows with her favorite son. She had discarded him the moment he became a liability.

"If Mother isn't running the blackmail, and she abandoned you," I said slowly, the realization hitting me like a physical blow, "then who the hell found your altered ledger?"