“Arden,” he said, his voice gravelly.

“This is a private office.”

“Not anymore,” I said.

I walked in and closed the doors behind me.

“The board has just appointed me as the temporary receiver of the firm,” I said.

“You don’t have the authority,” he said, taking a sip from his glass.

“The partnership agreement requires a two-thirds majority.”

“Your partners are currently being interviewed by the SEC,” I said.

“And your largest institutional investors have already signed over their proxy votes to me.”

He set his glass down on the bar cart with a sharp clink.

“You are destroying this firm,” he said.

“We could have handled this internally.”

“We could have paid back the missing funds over time.”

“With what, Elliot?” I asked.

“More stolen money from the pension accounts?”

He did not answer.

He walked over to his desk and sat down, looking suddenly very old.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I want your shares,” I said.

“Every single one of them.”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“They are worth millions,” he said.

“They were worth millions yesterday,” I corrected him.