Lorna’s jaw tightened. “Watch your tone, Grant,” Lorna said. “Miriam Whitaker built this foundation from nothing.”

“I will not have her memory dismissed as delusional.”

“I am not dismissing her memory,” Grant said, his voice cracking slightly. “I am protecting the operational efficiency of this organization.”

“If we freeze these accounts now, our vendor contracts will default.” “We will lose the progress we’ve made.”

I stood up, resting my palms flat on the cool wood of the table. “We are not just freezing the accounts, Grant,” I said. “I am calling for an immediate, independent forensic audit of every transaction made under your tenure.”

The word hung in the damp air of the room. Vanessa’s face went pale, her eyes darting to Helen.

Helen did not look back at her. Instead, Helen kept her cold, sharp gaze fixed on me.

“An audit of this scale will cost tens of thousands of dollars,” Arthur Bell said, tapping his pencil. “It will also invite public scrutiny.”

“The press will have a field day if they suspect financial impropriety at Whitaker House.”