She slid the first set across the polished wood toward him.

“Can you identify these wire transfers from the Whitaker Charity Foundation?” she asked.

Grant looked down at the papers.

The color left his face so quickly I thought he might faint.

He looked at Daniel, but Daniel was already reading the top sheet, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“What is this?” Daniel asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

“These are the records of four point six million dollars siphoned from a children’s housing fund,” Lena said.

She placed another document on top of the stack.

“And this is the authorization signed by your client.”

Grant stared at his own signature on the paper.

His hand began to tremble.

The door to the conference room opened suddenly, and a young associate stepped inside, holding a tablet.

She looked pale as she walked quickly to Lena’s side and whispered in her ear.

Lena’s expression tightened.

She looked at me, then back at the associate.

“Are you sure?” Lena asked.

The associate nodded.

I leaned closer to Lena as she turned the tablet screen toward me.