“We need the primary trustee’s biometric authorization for that,” Thomas replied.

My father stepped forward and placed his right hand on the small glass scanner connected to the tablet.

The screen blinked green.

“Transaction cancelled,” the mechanical voice from the tablet announced.

I let out a breath I felt I had been holding for days.

“Sloane must have scheduled this transfer before her arrest, using a delayed script,” Thomas said, closing the tablet cover.

“Or she had help inside,” my father said, looking toward the hallway.

The elevator doors at the end of the corridor chimed.

Two security guards appeared at the glass doors of our suite, holding a young woman by the arms.

It was Clara, a junior paralegal from the corporate legal department.

She was holding a leather handbag tightly against her chest, her face pale and her eyes red from crying.

“She was trying to leave through the service elevator with Sloane’s backup hard drive,” the guard said.

Clara looked at me, then at my father.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered.

“Nolan promised he would pay off my mother’s medical bills.”