The line went dead with a sharp beep.

Derek lowered his hand, the phone still glowing in his palm.

He looked at me, his mouth open slightly, as if he wanted to speak but could not find the words.

From the kitchen, the faint sound of Chef Laura chopping herbs on a wooden board drifted into the dining room.

The smell of roasted garlic and rosemary filled the air, contrasting with the cold tension in the hallway.

Derek walked to the dining table and picked up one of the printed pages I had left there.

His fingers shook, causing the paper to rustle in the quiet room.

“You gave them everything,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I gave them the truth, Derek,” I said.

“This will ruin the firm,” he said. “It will destroy everything I built.”

“You destroyed it when you took money that did not belong to you,” I said.

He threw the paper back onto the table, his hand slamming down onto the dark wood.

The silver silverware rattled against the porcelain plates.