“Don’t try to talk too much yet,” I said, wiping his tear away.

“No,” he insisted, his grip on my hand tightening with surprising strength. “You have to know.”

He looked past me toward Charles, recognition flickering in his dull eyes.

“Charles Whitmore,” my father whispered. “They wanted your company.”

“I know, Arthur,” Charles said, stepping closer to the bed. “They used your disappearance to corner the market.”

“It was more than that,” my father gasped, coughing weakly.

“They have a ledger. In the basement office.”

“A ledger of what, Dad?” I asked.

“Every bribe,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Every cover-up. The restaurant… Crystal Oak was just the front.”

He struggled to sit up, but the monitor beside the bed began to beep rapidly.

“Easy, Arthur,” Charles said, pressing a button on the wall to call for a medical assistant.

“No, you don’t understand,” my father urged, his eyes wide with fear. “Julian knows we are here.”

“The security team has blocked all entry points,” Charles assured him.

“He doesn’t need to come here himself,” my father whispered.