Julian pushed the heavy doors open, and the room fell instantly silent.

“This is a private board meeting, Evelyn,” Bennett sneered, slamming his hand onto the table.

“You have no standing here.”

“Actually, she does,” Julian said, stepping forward and placing a thick blue binder on the table.

“As the rightful holder of forty-nine percent of the founding shares, recovered from the offshore entities you illegally transferred, Mrs. Whitlock has every right to be present.”

The chairman of the board, an older man named Arthur Vance, looked up from his papers.

“Sit down, Evelyn,” Arthur said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Bennett, the board has convened to address the criminal indictment filed against you this morning.”

“It is a political stunt,” Bennett spat, his voice cracking.

“The district attorney has nothing but circumstantial nonsense.”

“They have the wire transfers, Bennett,” Julian said quietly.

“And they have the affidavits from your Swiss bankers, which we provided two hours ago.”

Arthur Vance looked at the other board members, who all avoided Bennett’s frantic gaze.

“The luxury brand cannot survive a public trial for grand larceny,” Arthur said.