The caller ID was blocked.

I hesitated, then swiped the screen to answer.

Preston’s face appeared on the display, sitting in the back of a moving car.

He looked tired, but his eyes were cold and completely devoid of warmth.

“Claire,” Preston said, his voice smooth and untroubled. “I know where you are.”

I gripped the edge of Arthur’s desk, my knuckles turning white.

“You won’t get away with this, Preston,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible.

“You’re not well, Claire,” he replied, a faint, patronizing smile touching his lips. “Everyone knows it now. The papers are already printing the truth about your condition.”

“We have the files,” I said, gesturing to the screen. “We know about the offshore accounts. We know about the twelve million dollars.”

Preston’s smile slowly faded, his jaw tightening as he stared at the camera.

“You have nothing,” he said quietly. “Because those files don’t exist anymore.”

Suddenly, the screen on Arthur’s computer went black.

A single line of text appeared on the monitor: *System Override. Data Deleted.*

Arthur gasped, frantically typing on his keyboard, but the screen remained locked.