Rachel was standing near the double doors, holding a thick leather folder.

She caught my eye and nodded once, her expression grim.

The screen on my phone suddenly vibrated.

A new notification popped up, displaying a direct transfer alert of five million dollars.

I looked at the high glass windows of the ballroom, where the rain was drumming a steady, relentless beat.

“Five million,” I whispered, the light of the screen reflecting on my palms.

Daniel gripped my elbow, his voice barely audible over the chatter of the wealthy donors.

“Leave it,” he said. “The transfer is pending. It is the bait.”

At the front of the room, Sloane tapped the microphone.

The sharp feedback echoed through the vaulted ceiling of the ballroom, silencing the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sloane said, her voice smooth and practiced. “If you could please take your seats, we are about to begin.”

Graham stood just behind her, his posture straight, adjusting his silver cufflinks.

Margaret sat at the VIP table near the stage, her fingers clasped tightly around her pearl necklace.

Rachel did not wait for them to start the slides.