My husband shoved me, shattering the bathroom mirror. His mother sneered, “Clean up this disgusting mess.” But as I fell, my husband roared, “What’s in your pocket?!” The red LED of my federal distress fob pulsed. Denied the third click, I threw myself onto the broken glass, and…

domestic battery and the hostage situation,” Marcus said coldly. “But that’s not why the feds are here, Arthur.”

An agent walked up from the basement, carrying heavy, industrial plastic-wrapped bundles and a black, leather-bound physical ledger.

“Basement vault is secure, sir,” the agent reported. “We have the physical ledger and roughly two million continue reading …