“The boys’ future is already secure, Garrett,” I said. “By me.”

Grandfather Bradford leaned forward, his weathered hands gripping the arms of his leather chair.

“Then why are you here, young woman?” the old man asked.

“To deliver a courtesy notice,” I said.

I tapped my phone screen, sending the approval command to my lead developer in Chicago.

The screen flashed green, confirming the transmission.

“The Bradford Group has been struggling with its liquidity for eighteen months,” I said, looking directly at the grandfather.

“That is highly confidential corporate business,” Vivian snapped.

“It was confidential,” I corrected. “Until your primary creditors began bundling your commercial paper to minimize their exposure.”

I pulled a thin, blue folder from my leather briefcase and laid it on the desk.

“My agency, Apex Media, has spent the last six months quiet-buying those liabilities through our acquisition arm,” I said.

Arthur Vance frowned, leaning over the desk to open the folder.

His eyes scanned the top sheet, and the color drained from his face.

“What is it, Arthur?” Grandfather Bradford demanded.