I slid the first folder across the table toward my father. Inside was a complete record of every keystroke made on my network over the previous seven days, timestamped and connected to the device Desmond had brought into my home while everyone believed I was boarding a ship.

Then I opened the second folder. It contained the power of attorney Desmond had filed using my name, complete with a signature I had never written, followed by a mortgage transfer against my house for $380,000. My father’s face turned gray. My mother reached for the folder but pulled her hand back.

Then I placed the third folder directly in front of my sister, Rosalind. “You should read this one first,” I said quietly. Inside was a single first-class ticket, booked in Desmond’s name, for the following morning—one seat, leaving the country. Beneath it were bank records showing the money had been routed elsewhere. Rosalind stared at the documents, slowly realizing what he had planned.