“If you confess now, on my terms,” I said, “you show cooperation before the state attorney general gets the file.”

Another heavy thud shook the door, and the wood groaned near the brass hinges.

“Lila, please!” Grant shouted from the hallway, his voice sounding desperate.

“She’s trying to ruin us both. Don’t listen to her!”

I took a step toward the tripod, checking the laptop screen connected to the camera.

The live chat on the screen was scrolling so fast it was a blur of usernames.

People in Newport Beach were demanding to know what was happening behind the locked door.

“The stream is still live,” I said. “The audience is waiting.”

Lila looked at the glowing red light of the camera.

Her face was pale under the heavy makeup she wore for the promotional shoot.

“Tell them Grant used the charity designation as a front to buy the coastal parcel,” I said.

“Tell them the luxury condos were always the plan.”

“He’ll destroy me,” Lila said.

“He’s already destroyed you,” I replied. “He just hasn’t told you yet.”

She looked at the door, then back at the lens.