Sloane took a slow, deep breath, her eyes darting between Julian and the heavy wooden doors.

I could see the gears turning in her head as she realized Graham had no future, no money, and no way out.

She reached slowly into her coat pocket, her fingers brushing against a small, hard object.

“I have some logs,” Sloane said, her voice barely a whisper, though it carried clearly in the empty chapel. “He has a secondary ledger. For the accounts in Grand Cayman.”

Graham’s face turned white.

“Sloane, shut your mouth,” he snarled, taking a step toward her.

“They’re hidden in his study,” she continued, her eyes fixed on Julian. “But I know where the digital keys are.”

“Sloane!” Graham yelled, lunging forward.

Pastor Whitcomb stepped between them, his tall frame blocking Graham’s path.

“Do not desecrate this house, Graham,” the pastor said, his voice suddenly commanding.

Graham stopped, his breathing heavy, his eyes darting between all of us.

He looked trapped, like an animal realizing the cage door had just slid shut.

“You’re a fool, Sloane,” Graham hissed, his voice trembling with rage. “They’ll drag you down with me.”