He stepped in front of the briefcase, blocking my view.

“It’s business, Emily. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand everything,” I said. “I know about First Star. I know about the Cayman accounts.”

He went still.

The rain dripped from the brim of his hood, running down his pale cheeks.

“You don’t have proof,” he said.

“I have the transfers,” I said. “And Arthur is ready to talk.”

It was a bluff, but he didn’t know that.

He glanced toward the cabin of the boat.

“Arthur won’t say a word,” Gavin said. “He’s as deep in this as I am.”

“Not anymore,” I said. “He has twenty-four hours to sign over his shares, or he goes down with you.”

Gavin took a step toward me.

He was taller than me, his frame imposing in the dark.

“You think you’re so smart, Emily,” he hissed. “But you’re just like your grandmother. Paranoid and alone.”

“My grandmother is alive,” I said.

He laughed, a cold, dry sound.

“For now,” he said. “But your mother is about to take care of that, isn’t she?”

My stomach sank.

He already knew.