Grant froze, his hand still holding the gold pen.

His face drained of what little color it had left.

“Vanessa was the communications consultant for the foundation,” I said, looking directly at Arthur Bell.

“She has admitted to creating dummy invoices for services that were never rendered,” I added.

“The funds from those invoices were routed directly into a personal account held by Grant Caldwell,” Marcus said.

Deputy Director Miller picked up Vanessa’s confession, her eyes scanning the pages quickly.

The two regulators beside her leaned in, their faces grim as they read over her shoulder.

“This is a fabrication,” Grant whispered, his eyes darting toward the door.

“It is signed and witnessed, Mr. Caldwell,” Miller said, her voice cold and professional.

“She was angry,” Grant said, stepping back from the table. “Emma threatened her. This was coerced.”

“I didn’t threaten anyone, Grant,” I said. “Vanessa realized you were going to let her take the fall.”

Arthur Bell reached out and took the blue audit binder, flipping through the pages.

His face went gray as his eyes tracked the columns of numbers.