“It has the original corporate registry on it,” she continued. “The one showing you own fifty-one percent of the company. The one from before he altered the digital certificates.”

I reached out to take it, but Sarah caught my wrist.

“What do you want for this, Sloane?” Sarah asked, her legal instincts sharp and cold.

“Immunity,” Sloane said, looking directly at me. “I want a signed agreement from Cassandra. You won’t press charges for the forgery, and you won’t name me as a co-conspirator in the divorce or the fraud suit.”

She looked desperate, her perfect PR composure entirely shattered.

The elevator chimed, indicating we had reached the garage level, but nobody moved.

“I can’t do that, Sloane,” I said.

Her eyes widened in panic. “Cassandra, please. This is everything. It has his hidden assets, his offshore accounts, his entire life on it.”

“If I take that drive from you privately, Gavin’s lawyers will call it stolen property,” I said. “They’ll say we colluded to steal company data, and the judge will throw it out.”

Sarah nodded approvingly beside me, her grip on my wrist relaxing.