He was stealing from his own partners.

Ninety-nine percent.

The progress bar vanished, replaced by a small dialogue box.

*Transfer complete.*

I quickly dragged the USB icon to the trash bin to eject it safely.

I pulled the small metal drive out of the port and slipped it deep into my pocket.

I closed the laptop lid, leaving it exactly as I had found it.

I wiped the glossy surface of the desk with my sleeve to remove any fingerprints.

Just as I turned to leave, the landline phone on Derek’s desk began to ring.

The sharp, electronic chime shattered the silence of the office.

I froze, staring at the glowing caller ID screen.

It was Arthur Vance.

Before the second ring finished, the door behind me swung open.

I braced my hand against the edge of the mahogany desk, my knuckles turning white.

It was Chef Laura.

She stood in the doorway, holding a wooden crate filled with fresh winter herbs and glass jars of clarified butter.