“She saw the ship sinking and jumped.”

The heavy glass doors of the lobby slid open with a soft hiss.

A gust of wet, humid air swept inside, carrying the smell of damp asphalt and exhaust fumes.

Evelyn Price stepped through the threshold.

She wore a dark grey trench coat, belted tightly at the waist.

Her assistant, a young man carrying a thick leather briefcase, followed a step behind her.

Evelyn stopped a few feet from us, her eyes moving from Victor’s ruined face to the phone in his hand.

“Mr. Hayes,” she said, her voice professional and crisp.

“I see you received the notification.”

Victor didn’t look at her.

He kept his eyes on the floor.

“You had no right to touch that account,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“That was personal property.”

“It was corporate capital diverted from the phase-three acquisition,” Evelyn said.

She took a pair of reading glasses from her pocket and slid them onto her nose.

“Brooke Vance signed an affidavit thirty minutes ago.”

“She detailed the exact routing numbers you used to bypass the treasury department.”