Voices echoed off the high marble walls.

Camera flashes from a few early-arriving journalists lit up the wet pavement outside.

Marcus turned his head as we stepped out of the elevator bank.

His eyes locked onto mine, filled with a sudden, sharp hatred.

“You did this,” Marcus snarled, trying to step toward me.

An agent grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back against the marble pillar.

“Keep moving, Mr. Vance,” the agent said.

Adrian stepped slightly in front of me, his tall frame blocking most of Marcus’s view.

“It is over, Marcus,” Adrian said, his voice flat and cold.

“You underestimated the people in this building.”

Marcus spat on the polished floor, his gaze shifting to Adrian.

“You think you won, Romano?” Marcus sneered. “This goes deeper than Harrison.”

“We have the ledger, Marcus,” I said, stepping out from behind Adrian.

My voice did not shake this time.

“We have the accounts in the Cayman Islands, the dummy corporations in Delaware, and the signatures on the wire transfers.”

Marcus went pale, the anger draining from his face, leaving only a hollow panic.