“I would burn it to the ground to keep my children safe,” I said.

The engine roared as I pressed the accelerator.

We crossed the state line into Maine.

The coastal road was winding and dark.

The ocean was a black void to our right, the waves crashing against the rocks.

“How far?” I asked.

“Ten miles,” Marcus said, checking his GPS.

I reached for my phone and dialed my personal attorney, Arthur Vance.

He answered on the third ring.

“Adrian?” Arthur said. “It is late.”

“I need you to draft a document immediately,” I said.

“What kind of document?”

“My resignation as Chief Executive Officer of Whitmore Capital,” I said.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Adrian, you can’t be serious,” Arthur said. “The merger is next week.”

“I am entirely serious, Arthur,” I said.

“If you step down, your mother’s trust loses its primary asset valuation,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

“And Celeste’s marital claim will be reduced to a fraction of its current worth,” he added.

“That is the point,” I said.