Marcus, the security chief, stepped forward from the shadows near the elevators.

He was carrying a sleek, black military-grade laptop and a thick stack of printed documents.

Two other security guards in dark suits followed him, their faces expressionless.

“Mr. Graves,” Marcus said, addressing Nathaniel but looking toward Charles.

“We have successfully bypassed Dunleavy’s personal server at the Brindlewood office.”

“What did you find?” Nathaniel asked.

Arthur Dunleavy let out a low, ragged breath from his seat on the bench.

He looked smaller now, his shoulders hunched under his damp coat.

“Show my father,” Nathaniel ordered.

Marcus set the laptop down on the high reception desk and turned the screen toward Charles.

“These are the secondary ledgers,” Marcus said.

He tapped a key, and columns of red and green numbers filled the screen.

“For twelve years, Dunleavy kept two sets of books.”

I watched the screen from a distance, the bright glare reflecting off the polished floor.

“The official books sent to Graves Enterprises showed Brindlewood running at a constant deficit,” Marcus explained.

“You were told the tenants were defaulting on rent and that maintenance costs were skyrocketing.”