There was a new message from Arthur Vance’s courier.

It contained a single address in the suburbs, and a time.

My hand was shaking slightly as I deleted the message.

The elevator doors closed, and the hallway fell completely silent.

Then, from the far end of the floor, the heavy security doors of the executive suite clicked open.

A woman’s footsteps hurried toward me, the sharp heel-clicks echoing against the walls.

I turned to see Vivian’s personal assistant, her face pale and her eyes wide with panic.

She was holding a tablet, her fingers trembling against the screen.

“Mrs. Prescott,” she gasped, stopping a few feet away.

“What is it, Sarah?” I asked.

“It’s your mother-in-law,” she said. “She just released the asset transfer documents to the press.”

I looked down at the screen of Sarah’s tablet.

The press release was already flashing at the top of the financial news feeds.

Vivian had bypassed the board of directors entirely.

She had transferred seventy percent of the remaining liquid assets of Prescott Global into a private entity registered in the Cayman Islands.