Nathan picked up the paper, his eyes scanning the numbers.

“You paid him,” Nathan said, his voice flat and dangerously quiet.

“You paid a licensed physician to falsify medical records about my wife.”

“It was a retainer for potential corporate wellness consulting,” Richard said, but his voice lacked its previous strength.

“With a digital memo line that reads ‘Special Project: E.V.,'” Hayes said.

“E.V. Emily Vance.”

I felt a cold wave of relief wash over me, followed immediately by a burning anger.

“You used company money to destroy my life,” I said, staring directly into Richard’s cold gray eyes.

“I did what had to be done,” Richard said, straightening his back.

“And even if you prove the payment, it will take months of litigation.”

“By then, the damage to your reputation will be done.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his phone.

“I am calling the editor now,” Richard said.

“Wait,” Nathan said.

He did not sound panicked anymore. He sounded cold.

“If you make that call, Father, I will call the federal prosecutors before the line even connects.”