“That’s private corporate property,” Ethan snapped. “You don’t have the authorization.”

“I signed the original deed of trust in our living room three years ago, Ethan.”

My fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard, entering the system access codes I had memorized from the encrypted ledger.

I dragged the digital copy of the forensic ledger—the real one, showing the double-invoicing and the bribes to the city inspectors—into the secure compliance portal of the chief underwriting bank.

I cc’d the SEC’s enforcement division and the major credit rating agencies.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Ethan said.

“It’s already in the queue,” I said. “The files are transferring now.”

Outside the door, a loud crack echoed.

Miller had found a crowbar.

The gap in the door widened by two inches, showing his sweating face and the glare of his flashlight.

“Step back, Liam!” Miller ordered.

Liam didn’t move. He shifted his weight, his boots gripping the linoleum floor.

“You want to test my reach, Miller?” Liam asked, his voice low and steady. “Come on through.”

The progress bar on my screen read thirty percent.