“The only way to save it is to be honest.”

Dunleavy let out a low, desperate snarl.

He looked around the lobby like a trapped animal.

His eyes darted from the glass doors to the elevators, then to the two police officers.

“You think you’ve won?” Dunleavy hissed.

“You think these people will thank you?”

“They hate you.”

“They will always hate you.”

He raised his phone again.

“I’m sending it,” he said.

“I’m sending everything.”

His thumb pressed down hard on the screen.

The screen flashed, a small blue circle spinning as the upload reached one hundred percent.

“There,” Dunleavy breathed, a sick smile spreading across his face.

“It’s done.”

“The media has it.”

“Your precious reputation is gone.”

We all stood in silence for a long moment.

The only sound was the rain outside and the quiet hum of the building’s ventilation system.

Nobody moved.

Nathaniel didn’t even blink.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Nathaniel said quietly.

Dunleavy’s smile faltered.

“What?” he muttered.

“You just made our press conference much easier,” Nathaniel said.

“Now we don’t have to explain how the files got out.”