Claire glanced at my screen.
“He knows we’re here.”
“He knows a lot of things,” I said. “So do I.”
I pulled the flash drive from my pocket.
“You watched this?” I asked.
Claire frowned.
“What is that?”
“Evidence of your voice. Just like yours.”
I inserted the drive into the boardroom computer.
Her expression darkened.
“That’s not allowed.”
“It’s my company.”
The screen flickered.
Then a recording played.
Claire’s voice filled the room.
“Once Emily is arrested, the board will remove her.”
Daniel’s voice followed.
“And then?”
“Then the assets will be frozen. And you, Daniel, will be her hero.”
The words echoed through the boardroom speakers.
Claire froze.
“Where did you get that?”
“From a safe-deposit box opened under your mother’s name.”
Her lips parted.
“That’s impossible.”
“It was in the box we retrieved last night,” I said. “Along with correspondence between you and a lawyer named Arthur Barlowe.”
Her confidence cracked.
“Those discussions were privileged.”
“Did you know Arthur Barlowe has been recording his own meetings for over twenty years?”
Her face lost color.
“He’s been cooperating with federal investigators for the last six months.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
I opened a message from one of Dad’s former colleagues.
Attached was a scanned plea agreement.
Signed by Claire Whitmore.
