She stared at the wall, her breathing shallow.

“He promised me we would leave together,” she said, her voice cracking.

“He told me the holding company was a legal tax shelter.”

“He lied to you,” I said, moving closer to her desk.

“He’s using you as a shield.”

“I have the forensic audit team analyzing the offshore accounts right now.”

“The state regulators are already reviewing the preliminary findings.”

“If you don’t cooperate now, you will be the one facing the indictment alone.”

Vanessa sank into her chair, her face pale.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small black USB drive.

“Everything is on here,” she said, her voice shaking.

“The wire transfer authorizations, his personal emails, the offshore account numbers.”

“I want a guarantee that I won’t go to prison, Emma.”

“I can’t promise you that,” I said, taking the USB drive from her cold hand.

“But I can promise you that the state regulators will be much more lenient if you sign a confession right now.”

She looked at me for a long moment, then reached for a sheet of Whitaker House letterhead.