The agents took him by the elbows, their grips firm but polite.

They led him toward the elevators at the end of the hall.

Callum did not struggle, but he did not walk easily either, his leather-soled shoes sliding slightly on the stone floor.

Diane Vance watched them go, then turned to me.

“The board will ratify the new trust agreement on Monday, Avery,” she said.

“Thank you, Diane,” I said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, looking toward the elevators. “The prosecutors are going to want a conviction. They will want ten years at least.”

“I know,” I said.

“And your son will have his name,” she said.

“He will have my name,” I said. “Not his.”

She nodded once, then walked back into the boardroom to oversee the transfer of the files.

I stood in the hallway alone for a long moment, listening to the rain against the glass.

The elevator doors at the end of the hall opened with a soft chime.

The red light on the call button began to flash.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my own phone.