Roman bent over the desk, his long fingers pressing against the wood.

He looked at the screen, then at the physical page.

“The numbers balance,” Roman said.

“They balance on paper,” I said. “But the transaction fees don’t match the bank routing codes. Someone has been shaving half a percent from every single transaction across all three families.”

Victor walked over, leaning heavily on his cane as he peered at the screen.

“Half a percent is a rounding error,” Victor said.

“It is,” I said. “Until you multiply it by fifteen years of transactions. That is millions of dollars.”

Declan swore under his breath.

“Someone has been stealing from all of us?” Declan asked. “Under our noses?”

“Yes,” I said. “And whoever they are, they knew I was brought here tonight to clean up the books. That is why they shot at us.”

Roman did not look angry; he looked intensely focused.

He reached out and took my phone, zooming in on a specific line of code in the digital backup.

“This routing number,” Roman murmured. “It does not belong to any of our front companies.”