It slid smoothly, stopping just inches from Elliot’s gold-plated water pitcher.

Graham watched the folder move.

His hand twitched against the back of his leather chair, his knuckles turning white.

“What is that?” Graham asked.

His voice was thin, stripped of the Highland Park confidence he usually wore like armor.

“Your retirement plan,” I said.

Elliot reached out and opened the folder.

He flipped through the first three pages, his eyes tracking the columns of numbers.

The silence in the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the low hum of the building’s air conditioning.

“This is a routing authorization,” Elliot said, his voice dropping an octave.

“Yes,” I said. “It is scheduled for tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

“To where?” Elliot asked.

“Provident Trust Bank in Nassau,” I said. “The recipient is an entity called Crestview Ventures.”

I turned my head to look at Bianca.

She was sitting very still, her French-manicured fingers pressing hard into the strap of her handbag.

The color had completely left her cheeks, leaving two stark patches of blush on her skin.

“Do you know who owns Crestview Ventures, Elliot?” I asked.