She swallowed hard, her throat clicking in the dark.

“The money, Adrian,” she whispered.

She reached up, her trembling fingers brushing the collar of my shirt.

“My family’s trust,” she said. “The offshore accounts in Panama and Geneva.”

I felt a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck.

“He couldn’t access them without my signature,” she said. “He couldn’t use the biometric transfers without my eyes, my voice.”

Marcus stood by the heavy iron door, his hand resting on his holstered weapon.

“Boss,” Marcus said, his eyes darting to the ceiling. “We need to move her now.”

“Hold,” I commanded, keeping my eyes locked on Clara. “Tell me the rest, Clara.”

“He took my thumbprints while I was drugged,” she said, a tear cutting a clean path through the dust on her cheek. “He forced me to sign the authorization papers every six months.”

She coughed, a dry, hacking sound that shook her fragile frame.

“He was draining my family’s legacy,” she said. “And he used that money to fund his operations inside your own organization.”

The pieces fell into place with a sickening weight.