Henry Vale’s office in the Vale Industries tower was a relic of a different era. It was a place of dark mahogany, leather-bound books, and the quiet, ticking assurance of old money. It was a place where deals were made with handshakes and betrayal was a gentleman’s game.
But today, it was a courtroom.
Henry sat behind his desk. Across from him sat his board of directors. Ten men and women who had been his friends, his allies, his golf partners for thirty years.
And they were looking at him like he was a contagion.
"The statement you released," Charles, the oldest board member, said, his voice thin and reedy. "About your daughter. About the transfer."
"It was factual," Henry said, his voice steady.
"It was an admission," Charles corrected. "You admitted to facilitating the flight of a
