They were the documents I had copied from the medical desk while Nurse Gable was away.

I slid them across the table toward Arthur Pendelton.

The lawyer picked them up, his brow furrowing as he scanned the lines of text.

“This is Dr. Harrison’s signature,” Pendelton murmured, his voice grave. “But the billing address is indeed registered to Thornton Logistics… Jason’s division.”

The other board members leaned in to look over Pendelton’s shoulder.

“This is highly irregular,” one of them said.

“It’s a lie,” Jason shouted, pointing a finger at me. “She forged those documents. Guards, drag her out of here now!”

The security guards took a step toward me.

I didn’t move.

“If you touch me,” I said, looking at the guards, “the police will receive the digital copies of these files within five minutes. My father is waiting for my call.”

It was a bluff, but a necessary one.

My father was currently hiding in the library of the guest house, terrified for his life.

But the guards hesitated again.