“What are you doing?” Garrett asked.

“I am securing my future,” Vivian said. “And if you have any sense left in that head of yours, you will do the same.”

“You’re running,” Garrett said.

“I am relocating,” Vivian corrected him. “The European accounts are still active. The remaining liquid assets of the Bradford holding company are being transferred to a private account in Zurich tonight.”

My heart did a slow, heavy thud.

I tapped the screen of my tablet, waking up the custom digital dashboard my agency had built to monitor the Bradford Group’s financial servers.

The screen illuminated my face with a cold, blue light.

“You can’t do that,” Garrett said. “That money belongs to the creditors. It belongs to the employees.”

“It belongs to me,” Vivian said. “I built this wall of protection. I will not starve because of your incompetence.”

Over the line, I heard the sound of a zipper, likely a travel bag being packed with documents and bearer bonds.

“Arthur is waiting at the private hangar,” Vivian said. “The transfer initiates at midnight. Try to stop me, Garrett, and I will ensure you take the fall for every financial discrepancy of the last decade.”