Most people think power lives in glass offices and private jets.
Damian knows it lives in spreadsheets.
Not the glossy reports the board sees. The ugly back-end ones. The ones with red cells and flags and notations about “unusual movement.”
The ones Nolan is currently projecting across the wall of the secure conference room.
“Two days,” Nolan says, laser pointer circling a spike in one corner of the chart. “That’s all it took after the Axiom incident. Funds started bleeding out of three of the shell companies connected to the auction network. Quiet transfers, but sloppy enough, I caught them on a routine sweep.”
Damian sits at the head of the narrow table, jacket off, sleeves rolled, tie abandoned somewhere between his office and here. His coffee has gone cold again. He hasn’t noticed
