I walked to the head of the table and laid my leather folder down with a firm slap.

Samantha sneered, though her eyes darted toward the door.

“That is a baseless accusation, Claire,” she said. “You have no authority here.”

“I have the authority of the founding estate,” I replied, opening the folder.

I pulled out the certified bank records Daniel had helped me retrieve from the hotel safe.

“These are the transfer logs from the Hayes Group treasury account,” I said, sliding the papers across the polished wood toward Arthur.

Arthur adjusted his reading glasses and picked up the documents.

His brow furrowed as he scanned the columns of numbers.

“These routing numbers lead to a shell corporation registered in Panama,” Arthur murmured, looking up at the other board members.

“A corporation solely owned by Preston and Samantha Mercer,” I added.

A murmur ran through the room, and one of the digital faces on the screen leaned closer to his camera.

“This is absurd,” Samantha said, standing up so quickly her chair scraped loudly against the floor. “These are routine international investments.”