MAYA
I'd spent my whole life avoiding authority. Now I was inviting the federal government into our disaster.
The Department of Justice office in downtown San Francisco smelled like old carpet and burnt coffee. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Dominic sat beside me in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his leg bouncing nervously.
We'd been waiting forty minutes.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.
"No." I gripped the armrest. "But what choice do we have?"
The door opened. A woman entered, mid-forties, dark suit, hair pulled back tight. She carried a leather folder thick with documents.
"Ms. Sullivan. Mr. Chen." She didn't smile. "I'm Rachel Vargas, lead prosecutor for the DOJ's Corporate Fraud division."
We shook hands. Her grip was firm.
She led us to a conference room.
