"—It was you, Liam! You killed my father with your own hands!"
The rustling of papers around the conference room stopped instantly. Several executives dropped their pens and exchanged stunned looks.
Chloe jerked back as if struck. Her chair, with her still in it, scraped backward across the carpet with a dull thud.
"Stop slandering us!" She pointed at me, her voice cracking on the spot. "Liam didn't even have independent surgical privileges back then. How could he have possibly been the lead surgeon? What gives you the right to fabricate—"
"He not only scrubbed in, he picked up the knife." I cut her off coldly.
I flipped open the folder beside my hand and pulled out two photocopies, their edges yellowed with age. I pushed them firmly into the center of the long table.
"The first docu
