I tapped the screen, and the email went through with a soft chime.

A moment later, Arthur’s tablet, which was resting on the side table, buzzed.

He picked it up and tapped the screen.

Derek watched his father, his breathing shallow and fast.

I saw the pulse throbbing in Derek’s temple, a tiny, rapid beat beneath his pale skin.

Arthur scrolled through the documents, his face growing darker with every page.

“These are the original bank ledgers,” Arthur whispered. “The ones from the Zurich account.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Derek, you told me that account was closed five years ago,” Arthur said, looking up at his son.

Derek did not answer.

He looked at the floor, his jaw working as he clenched his teeth.

“You lied to me,” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You lied to the board.”

“I did what I had to do to keep the firm afloat during the downturn,” Derek said.

“The firm was never in danger during the downturn,” Arthur said. “We had more than enough reserves.”

“You didn’t see the numbers I saw,” Derek said.