“Every transaction, every email between your private assistant and Brenner’s handlers.”

“It’s all sitting on the District Attorney’s desk right now,” Paul added.

Vance stood up so fast his chair rolled back and hit the glass window.

“This is a bluff,” Vance said. “You wouldn’t ruin the company’s valuation like this.”

“I don’t care about the valuation anymore,” Ethan said.

“I don’t own the company anymore. You do.”

“And you’re going to take the fall for everything.”

The heavy double doors of the boardroom clicked open.

Two men in dark overcoats walked in, followed by a uniformed Chicago police officer.

The first man held up a gold badge.

“Richard Vance?” the officer asked.

Vance looked at the officers, then at the paper in his pocket, and finally at Ethan.

“Ethan, we can work this out,” Vance said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“No,” Ethan said. “We can’t.”

The officers walked around the table.

I stood near the door, my hands clasped tightly in front of my coat.

I watched them lead Vance out of the room.