During my daughter’s wedding, she slipped a note into my palm: “Dad, help me.” Before the groom finished his vows, I stood up, stopped the ceremony cold—and the sheriff I’d invited quietly rose from the crowd. His smile vanished… because while he thought he was marrying into my Colorado ranch, I’d already spent months building the case that would destroy him.

“Yup,” Tyler replied. “Property records show no liens, no mortgages. He’s been retired for five years. Lives alone. No debt I can find. Claire says he drove the same truck for a decade, wears clothes from Walmart. Classic ‘rich old dude hiding in plain sight’ situation. He’s probably sitting on a couple million in investments, maybe more. The daughter has no clue. She thinks Daddy’s just a regular middle class retiree.”

Marcus gave a low whistle. “So what’s the play?”

There was a brief pause. I could almost hear Tyler smile.

“I marry Claire in September,” he said. “Spend the first year being the perfect husband, the devoted son-in-law. Get him to trust me. Maybe get financial power of attorney under the guise of helping out. Old guy lives alone. Who knows what could happen? A fall, an accident, some cognitive decline. Before you know it, he’s in a care facility ‘for his own good.’ I’m managing his affairs, and Claire inherits everything. We’ll be divorced before she figures out what happened, and I’ll take my half in the settlement.”

Marcus laughed. “You’re a cold bastard, Tyler.”