The pilot was watching from the cockpit window, his face grim.

“You think you’ve taken everything,” Grant said, stepping toward me.

The officers immediately moved between us, their hands resting on their holsters.

“Keep your distance, sir,” the officer said.

Grant stopped, his shoulders sinking.

He looked at me with a cold, desperate intensity.

“You ruined the legacy,” he whispered. “My father built this.”

“Your father didn’t build it on lies, Grant,” I said. “You did.”

Suddenly, the headlights of another vehicle swept across the tarmac from the security gate.

A silver sedan sped toward us, its tires screeching as it braked hard behind Vance’s SUV.

The driver’s side door opened.

Philip Mercer stepped out, his tie undone, his face flushed.

He looked at Grant, then at the police officers.

“Grant,” Philip called out, his voice filled with panic. “The firm. The federal prosecutors just issued a subpoena for the entire board.”

My phone vibrated in my hand.

I looked down at the screen.

It was an incoming call from Daniel’s office.

I pressed the button and held the phone to my ear.