He brought his dad a sandwich every day. He didn’t know which day his dad would come out.

His name was Victor Grant.

Daniel had not heard it in three years. Victor owned the warehouse where Daniel worked nights, fixing loading equipment to pay Rachel back for helping raise Noah after his mother died.

Victor had asked Daniel to drive a truck across town. Daniel knew the shipment was stolen. He took the job anyway. When police stopped the truck, Victor denied knowing him.

Daniel pleaded guilty. He had no money for a long fight, and he believed a shorter sentence would get him home to Noah sooner.

Now Victor’s sister had control of Noah, Rachel’s paperwork, and Rachel’s money.

Priya laid out the bank records on her desk. “We can show the transfers went to an account connected to Victor. The police will investigate. For the family hearing, we focus on Noah’s safety and Rachel’s consent.”

Daniel nodded, but his thoughts were racing. “Why would Victor bother with my family after all this time?”

Priya had a guess. Rachel’s house had risen sharply in value. She had signed documents placing it in a trust for Noah. Whoever controlled Noah’s finances might try to get access to the property.

Then Rachel called.

Her voice was strained. “The house,” she said. “Victor came here before my stroke.”

“What did he want?”

“A folder. I told him I’d given it to my lawyer.”

“What folder?”

Rachel breathed slowly. “Records from his warehouse. Your name was on them. I wanted you to see.”

Daniel gripped the phone. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”