Emma's apartment had never felt so small.
Or maybe it was just that there were seven people crammed into her living room at eleven PM on a Friday night, all of them talking at once, all of them staring at laptops and phones like the screens held the secrets to survival.
Which, in a way, they did.
"We need a statement out within the hour," Jennifer was saying, pacing in front of Emma's windows. The city sprawled below them, oblivious to the crisis unfolding fifty-two floors up. "Every minute we wait, Marcus's narrative becomes the truth."
"I've got the forensic evidence queued up," David Park said from his position at Emma's dining table, which had become command central. Spreadsheets covered every surface. "We can prove the embezzlement allegations are fabricated. Show exactly where Ma
