The heavy steel door of Visitor Interrogation Room 4 scraped open.
Julianne walked in, bringing the chill of the New York storm with her. She wore a tailored navy overcoat, her posture radiating an impenetrable calm.
Sitting on the far side of the bolted metal table, Edmund Vance flinched at the sound. The senior managing partner had aged ten years in a single week. Stripped of his frozen offshore assets, he wore a poorly fitting, off-the-rack gray suit. A distinct tremor vibrated through his hands as he clasped them over the metal surface.
Christian followed a step behind Julianne. He bypassed the empty plastic chair, choosing to stand directly behind her seat. His presence consumed the limited oxygen in the room. He stared at the disgraced lawyer, a silent, looming threat of pure viol
