“And the shell companies in Delaware?” I asked.

“Standard practice for tax mitigation,” he said, smiling like a teacher humoring a slow student.

“It’s embezzlement, Ethan,” I said. “You stole from the pension funds.”

Ethan took another step, stopping just three feet from the desk.

The smell of his expensive cologne mixed with the damp, earthy scent of the concrete basement.

“The trustees of those funds signed off on every transaction,” Ethan said.

“Because you blackmailed them,” I said.

Ethan leaned forward, resting his palms on the edge of the desk.

“It is called leverage, Claire,” he whispered. “Everyone has a price, and those who don’t have secrets.”

“What about the Deputy Mayor?” I asked.

“Arthur?” Ethan laughed again. “Arthur’s campaign was entirely funded by Apex subsidiaries.”

“He won’t protect you when this goes public,” I said.

“He will protect me because his signature is on the land transfer deeds,” Ethan said.

I shifted my weight slightly, ensuring the fabric of my coat didn’t muffle the burner phone.

“And what about me, Ethan?” I asked, looking directly into his cold, grey eyes. “Am I just another transaction?”