A green banker’s lamp cast a soft glow over a large mahogany desk.

I took out my phone and placed it on the desk.

“These are the files from Hayes Enterprises,” I said. “I need you to tell me if this is what I think it is.”

Arthur put on his reading glasses and connected my phone to his desktop computer.

He began scrolling through the ledgers, his expression growing more serious with every second.

“These are encrypted offshore transfers,” Arthur muttered, his fingers typing quickly. “Very sophisticated.”

“Can you trace them?” I asked, holding my breath.

Arthur stopped typing and looked up at me, his eyes grave behind his spectacles.

“Claire, this isn’t just bad bookkeeping,” he said. “If these numbers are real, Preston has been systematically stripping the company’s assets for years.”

“How much?” I asked.

Arthur pointed to a final balance sheet on the screen, his finger resting on a staggering eight-figure total.

“Over twelve million dollars,” Arthur said. “And it’s all gone to accounts tied directly to Samantha Mercer.”

My phone on the desk suddenly began to glow, the screen displaying an incoming video call.