The metal doors slid closed, cutting off her gaze.

The silence returned to the penthouse, heavy and cold.

I sat back down on the gray sofa, my knees suddenly shaking.

Gabriel walked over and sat in the armchair opposite me.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently.

“I will be,” I said, staring at the closed elevator doors.

“But she was right about one thing.”

“The investigators are going to tear the foundation apart.”

“Let them,” Gabriel said, leaning forward.

“You have the evidence they need to find the real targets.”

I pulled the envelope back out of my pocket.

My mother’s letter had mentioned a debt, a specific detail that did not fit the public narrative.

I opened the pages again, scanning the ink for the exact phrase.

“He has taken millions from the foundation to cover a debt I cannot name on this paper.”

I looked up at Gabriel, my brow furrowing.

“My mother knew about the money Richard was taking.”

“But she wrote that he was covering a debt, not just stealing for himself.”

“A debt to whom?” Gabriel asked, his eyes narrowing.