Downstairs, the faint clinking of silverware and the murmur of Chef Laura’s voice drifted up.

Ninety percent.

The progress bar seemed to freeze.

I felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck, dampening my collar.

I reached out and touched the cool metal of the USB drive, ready to yank it out if I heard his footsteps again.

Ninety-four percent.

The laptop screen suddenly flickered.

An incoming email notification popped up in the bottom right corner of the screen.

The sender’s name was Arthur Vance.

Arthur was Derek’s senior partner at the firm.

The subject line read: *Urgent: Forensic investigators scheduled for Monday morning.*

My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest.

Monday was only three days away.

I clicked on the notification, my hand trembling on the mouse.

The email was short and blunt.

“Derek, the committee is looking directly at the L-Three accounts. If you cannot account for the missing five million by Monday, we cannot protect you anymore.”

My eyes widened as I read the words again.

He wasn’t just hiding money from me.