Early the next morning, nearly nine months pregnant, I pushed open the doors of the boardroom.
A ring of grim-faced men sat inside. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and tension heavy enough to choke on.
Every head turned toward me. Some looked surprised. Some looked dismissive. Some were simply waiting for a show.
I walked to the head of the conference table, steadied myself against the chair, and swept my gaze across every face in the room.
Then I took out my phone and projected an encrypted file Dominic had sent from overseas onto the screen.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the original audit data from the international branch. The falsified records that were leaked to the press are a version doctored by the partner. The real books are right here."
The murmuring died instantly
