If anyone could find where this money went, it was him.

“I need to make a call,” I said, reaching for my phone.

Before I could dial, the office landline on Daniel’s desk began to ring.

The red light flashed in the dark room.

Daniel hesitated, then pressed the speakerphone button.

“Price,” he said.

“Daniel, it’s the front desk,” a hurried voice said through the static. “Mr. Hayes is downstairs. He’s with two police officers, and they’re asking for his wife.”

My breath hitched.

“Why the police?” Daniel asked.

“He’s claiming she’s a danger to herself,” the receptionist replied. “He has an involuntary psychiatric hold order.”

I looked at Mia, her face draining of color.

Preston wasn’t just trying to discredit me.

He was trying to lock me away.

“Where are they now?” Daniel asked, his voice steady despite the tension.

“They just entered the elevators,” the receptionist said. “They’re coming up to the administrative floor.”

Daniel cut the line and looked at me.

“You have to leave,” he said. “There’s a service exit behind the pantry. It leads to the loading dock on Forty-Eighth Street.”