Dr. Winters stepped closer, his brow furrowed.

“What are you saying?”

“She’s saying nothing,” my mother interjected smoothly. “Our daughter has issues, delusions. We’ve tried to help her, but…”

“Delusions,” I echoed, pulling out my phone. “Let’s see what the state medical board calls them.”

I pulled up an email and handed my phone to Doctor Winters.

“This was sent an hour ago. An official investigation has been opened.”

As Dr. Winters read, his expression darkened.

He looked up at my father, then Victoria, betrayal evident in his gaze.

“Gregory,” he said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Is this true?”

My father’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for his drink.

“Of course not. She’s lying. She’s always been troubled.”

Victoria moved to James’s side, clutching his arm.

“Tell them, James. Tell them she’s making this up.”

But James remained silent, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Victoria’s grip on his arm tightened, her voice rising with panic.

“James.”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “Not at first. I swear I didn’t know.”

The ballroom had gone completely silent, the other guests now openly watching the drama unfold.

My mother’s composed facade cracked, desperation creeping into her expression.

“This is ridiculous,” she snapped, turning to the onlookers with a forced laugh. “Please, everyone, enjoy the party. This is just a family matter. We need to…”

“It’s not just a family matter,” came a new voice.

A man in a dark suit stepped forward from the entrance.

“Gregory and Margaret Carter. I’m Agent Harlo with the IRS Criminal Investigation Division. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Behind him stood two more agents and a representative from the state medical board I’d been working with for months.

Over the past year, I had carefully built relationships with the regulatory agencies, providing anonymous tips at first, then gradually revealing my identity as the evidence became overwhelming.

The IRS agent had been particularly interested in the tax fraud involving my social security number.

My father’s face went ashen.

My mother’s hand flew to her throat, her fingers grasping at pearls as if they might somehow save her.

Victoria turned to me, her perfect makeup streaked with tears, her voice a desperate whisper.

“Olivia, please, you can’t do this. We’re family.”

I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt nothing but a profound emptiness where hurt had once lived.

“We were never family,” I said quietly. “Family doesn’t throw people away.”

As the agents led my parents toward a side room for questioning, Victoria sank into a chair, her engagement party crumbling around her.

James stood apart, already distancing himself from the impending scandal.

I had discovered his involvement in falsified research through Maria, who had access to billing records showing patients being charged for participation in clinical trials that existed only on paper.

Trials that listed James as the principal investigator.