“Keep an eye on them, Daniel,” I pleaded. “Please. Do not let them leave without me knowing.”

“I will watch the garage and the main lobby myself,” Daniel promised. “Stay safe, Claire.”

I hung up just as the cab pulled up to the curb outside Marcus’s high-rise office.

I paid the driver and rushed inside, ignoring the rain that was starting to ruin my hair.

The elevator took me to the thirty-fourth floor.

The doors opened to a sleek reception area with glass walls and views of the gray skyline.

Marcus’s assistant, a young woman named Chloe, looked up with a sympathetic smile. “Go right in, Claire. He is expecting you.”

I pushed open the door to Marcus’s office.

He was standing behind his mahogany desk, surrounded by glowing computer screens.

Sarah, our forensic accountant, was sitting at the conference table with a laptop open.

“We have a problem,” Marcus said, gesturing for me to sit down.

“The Panama transfer?” I asked, setting my briefcase on the floor.

“It is worse than that,” Sarah said, turning her laptop toward me. “Look at this ledger.”