“She owns you, Graham,” Maren said softly.

“She owns the mortgage on this house, and she owns the paper on your firm’s line of credit.”

“Shut up, Maren,” Graham snapped, but there was no force behind it.

His hand was trembling now.

The phone in his pocket stopped buzzing, only to start again a second later.

The blue light of the screen bled through the fabric of his trousers.

Bianca reached out, her fingers hovering near Graham’s sleeve, but she didn’t touch him.

“Graham,” she whispered. “What does this mean for the Q3 audit?”

“It means there is no audit,” I said.

“Not the one you prepared, at least.”

“The certified ledger is already in the hands of the state regulatory board.”

Elliot’s head snapped toward me.

His jaw tightened, the muscles working under his weathered skin.

“Arden, you didn’t,” Elliot said.

“I had to protect my assets, Elliot,” I said.

“My husband was using my family’s heritage to fund a lifestyle for his colleague.”

I looked directly at Bianca.

“And to cover the shortfall in the offshore accounts he thought I didn’t know about.”