“Exactly,” I said. “And I cannot afford to be distracted.”

I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the gray Chicago skyline.

“I am going to decline the position,” I said. “My only priority is the federal investigation.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, his expression softening.

“Then let’s give the Assistant U.S. Attorney exactly what they need to keep your father behind bars,” he said.

He pulled a chair out for me at the long dining table.

I sat down and spread the financial ledgers that Eleanor Price had smuggled out of my father’s private safe.

Beside them, I opened the encrypted laptop Gabriel had prepared.

For the next three hours, the penthouse was silent except for the clicking of my keyboard and the rain tapping against the glass.

My eyes burned as I compared the foundation’s public tax filings with the hidden ledgers.

The discrepancy was staggering.

“Gabriel, look at this,” I said, pointing to a column of transactions from three years ago.

He bent over my shoulder, his breath warm against my cheek.

“These are not standard administrative expenses,” I said, tracing a line of recurring eight-figure wire transfers.