Apex was built on a foundation of massive debt leverage.

If a major shareholder declared a material dispute, the credit lines would freeze automatically.

“The prenuptial agreement,” I muttered, typing rapidly. “When we married, Ethan gave me twenty-two percent of the voting stock as an asset guarantee.”

“But twenty-two percent isn’t enough for a takeover,” Liam said.

He winced as a heavy boot struck the lower panel of the door.

The wood around the latch began to splinter.

“It is if the rest of the board loses confidence in him,” I said.

I inserted my hardware security key into the USB port of the laptop.

The green light on the plastic token began to blink.

I entered the master password for the Apex subsidiary accounts.

The system required two-factor authentication.

My phone buzzed on the table.

The screen showed the six-digit code, but it also showed three missed calls from an unknown number.

I ignored the calls and typed the code into the laptop.

The corporate structure of Apex Development appeared on the screen in a series of neat, interconnected boxes.