“You said she was too stupid to understand the spreadsheets.”

“You were the one who authorized the signatures, Mother,” Graham yelled, stepping into her space.

“You gave me the routing numbers for the Delaware account.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Margaret said, her chin rising.

“Any financial irregularities are the sole responsibility of the director and his assistant.”

Sloane gasped, her mouth falling open.

“Assistant?” Sloane said, her voice rising to a shriek.

“I am the chief operating officer of Whitmore Development!”

“You are a secretary with an expensive wardrobe,” Margaret said coldly.

“And you will find out how little your title means when the grand jury convenes.”

The crowd in the ballroom began to whisper loudly, several people pulling out their phones to record the scene.

The lead investigator stepped between them.

“We have a warrant for the digital servers of the Hart Foundation and Whitmore Development,” he said.

He looked at Graham and then at Sloane.

“We also have a warrant to secure all personal electronic devices and physical files at your primary residences.”

Sloane’s face drained of what little color she had left.