“And then?”

“And then we reroute the destination,” I said.

My fingers hovered over the final command key as a notification flashed on the screen.

The Bradford Group’s primary offshore account was showing activity.

A transfer of eighty-four million dollars was preparing to launch.

Suddenly, my personal phone lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number.

I swiped the screen to answer, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Clara,” a voice cold as dry ice whispered through the speaker.

It was Vivian.

“I know what you are trying to do,” she said.

The reception crackled as the SUV passed under a concrete overpass.

“You are too late, Vivian,” I said, my eyes fixed on the tablet screen.

“Am I?” She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “The wire is already initiated. By the time your lawyers wake up tomorrow, the money will be in Zurich, and I will be boarding a private flight out of O’Hare.”

“You always did underestimate the people you looked down on,” I said.

“I built this family, Clara. I will not let a middle-class marketing strategist tear it down.”