Before he could speak, Caleb’s phone chirped with a sharp, double-tone.

Caleb looked down at his screen, his face hardening as he read.

“And there goes the secondary syndicate,” Caleb said, tossing his phone onto the table next to the legal documents. “They’re invoking the character and fitness clause. They want their principal returned by Friday.”

“They can’t do that,” Lila said, speaking up for the first time from the corner of the room.

Her voice sounded small, stripped of the glossy confidence she had worn when she walked in.

“They just did,” Diane said calmly.

Diane folded her hands on top of her leather folder, her manicured fingers perfectly still.

“Without Pacific Sovereign and the syndicate, Whitmore Caldwell is leveraged at over two hundred percent of its liquid assets,” Diane continued.

“We have reserves,” Grant snapped, his face reddening as he glared at me. “We have the Newport office. We have the land equity.”

“You have debt, Grant,” I said, my voice quiet in the large room.

He looked at me, his eyes wide and dark with a mixture of shock and growing fury.