“We draft a new agreement today.”

“Daniel signs over all remaining shares, resigns from the board, and relinquishes any claim to the properties.”

“In exchange, we do not hand these files to the federal prosecutor.”

“Will he sign?” I asked.

“He won’t have a choice,” Robert said.

On Monday morning, the city was gray and rain-slicked.

The corporate offices of Mercer Development smelled of stale coffee and industrial carpet.

I walked in wearing a dark wool coat, my briefcase in hand.

Robert Hayes walked beside me.

We entered the main conference room.

Daniel was already there, sitting at the long mahogany table.

Patricia sat next to him, her expression rigid, her hands clutching a designer handbag.

Vanessa was absent, likely waiting at home.

Daniel looked up, a smug smile playing on his lips.

“You’re late, Clara,” he said, tapping his pen on the table.

“Let’s get this over with so you can go back to your little beach house.”

I sat down opposite him.

Robert did not sit; he remained standing and opened his briefcase.

He took out two identical blue folders and placed one in front of Daniel.