“Derek, tell me this is some blogger’s fabrication,” Helen commanded.

Derek did not look at her.

He looked at the floor, his polished leather shoes reflecting the fluorescent light overhead.

“They must have got a leak from the commission,” Derek muttered.

His voice lacked its usual arrogant edge.

“A leak?” Helen stood up, her gold bracelets clinking together.

She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes narrowing.

“You did this,” she said.

“I did not leak anything, Mother,” I said.

My voice sounded calmer than I felt.

“But I am not going to lie to protect Derek’s bad investments.”

“It is not just Derek’s investment, Sarah,” my father said softly from the corner.

Arthur Mitchell finally stood up from his deep armchair.

His suit looked slightly too large for him now, a detail I had not noticed earlier.

“The family trust is heavily tied to those utility acquisitions,” Arthur said.

He did not look me in the eye.

He looked at the empty glass in his hand instead.

“If Mitchell Holdings takes a hit, your father’s retirement is affected,” Helen said, her voice rising.