“I am just getting started.”

I walked toward the double doors of the main conference room, where the audit was about to begin.

I pushed open the heavy oak doors.

The room fell silent.

Helen sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, her chin resting on her steepled fingers.

Lorna nodded to me, her eyes tight with worry.

Arthur Bell didn’t look up from his tablet, his brow furrowed as he scrolled through a spreadsheet.

Marcus stood by the sideboard, pouring a glass of water with a steady hand.

I took my seat near the window, placing my leather bag on the table.

Grant and Vanessa entered behind me, their footsteps muted by the thick Persian rug.

Vanessa slid into a chair near the back wall, trying to look like an ordinary observer.

Grant took his place next to his mother, clearing his throat and adjusting his cuffs.

“Now that we are all present,” Helen said, her voice smooth and cold as marble. “We can begin.”

“We are here to discuss the preliminary findings of the annual audit,” Arthur said, finally looking up.