I kept my hand in my pocket, the recorder still capturing every word.

The wind outside rattled the heavy glass pane once more.

In the hallway, the distant sound of a phone began to ring.

The phone rang three more times before it stopped.

No one moved to answer it.

Sloane stared at the scattered papers by her high-heeled shoes.

Her breathing was shallow, making the silk of her blouse flutter.

“Federal fraud,” she repeated, the words barely louder than a breath.

“Don’t be dramatic, Sloane,” Vivian said, taking a slow sip of her lukewarm tea.

“You knew the structure of the offshore accounts when you signed the transfer papers.”

“Because Carter told me they were approved by the board!” Sloane screamed.

Her voice cracked, the sound harsh against the high plaster ceiling of the morning room.

Carter winced and glanced toward the heavy mahogany doors, checking if the servants were listening.

“Keep your voice down,” Carter hissed, stepping closer to her.

“We can handle this, Sloane.”

“We can restructure the debt.”

“Restructure?” Sloane laughed, a sharp, hysterical sound.