“This is the deposition from your head accountant,” Arthur said.

“He signed it at four o’clock this afternoon,” he added.

“He states that every wire transfer to the Geneva account was authorized directly by you, via your personal email,” Arthur said.

“He kept the encrypted logs,” he added.

Grant stared at his mother, his eyes wide and vacant.

“You told me that money was for the expansion in Savannah,” Grant whispered.

“You told me it was clean, Mother,” he said.

Patricia did not answer him.

She kept her gaze fixed on the wall behind Arthur.

“Grant, do not speak to these people,” she said.

“They are bluffing,” she added.

“They are not bluffing, Grant,” I said.

Grant looked at me, a desperate expression crossing his face.

He took a half-step toward me, pulling against the marshal’s grip.

The marshal let him move slightly but kept a firm hand on his arm.

“Allison,” Grant said, his voice dropping to a low plea.

“We can talk about this,” he said.

“We can fix this between us,” he added.

“There is nothing to fix, Grant,” I said.