“You can’t do that,” she said, her voice trembling. “I built half of those divisions.”

“You did,” Blake agreed. “And today, you are leaving them.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded document.

He unfolded it on the desk near the window.

The gray afternoon light of New York hit the white paper, illuminating the heavy corporate letterhead.

“This is a voluntary relinquishment of all executive titles and board seats,” Blake said.

“Sign it.”

“No,” Helena said, her chin rising. “The board will never ratify this.”

“The board will ratify whatever I tell them to ratify,” Blake said.

“Especially when I show them the forensic audit of the Geneva accounts.”

He tapped the paper with his index finger.

“If you sign this, you retire quietly for health reasons.”

“And if I don’t?” she asked, her voice shaking with venom.

“If you don’t,” Blake said, “I hand the complete files over to the federal prosecutor in Chicago tomorrow morning.”

The room fell completely silent.

The hum of the penthouse heating system was the only sound.