I reached out and placed my hand on the cold brass handle of the door.

I turned the knob.

The heavy oak door swung open on silent brass hinges.

The cool air of the boardroom hit my face, smelling of leather, expensive cologne, and stale coffee.

Graham stopped talking mid-sentence.

He stared at me, his eyes wide and bloodshot behind his designer glasses.

“Jocelyn?” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”

At the far end of the long mahogany table sat three men in tailored gray suits.

Beside them was Arthur Vance, Vanguard’s chief legal counsel, looking calm and impeccable.

“This is a private executive meeting,” Graham said, his voice rising an octave. “You need to wait in the lobby.”

He scrambled toward me, trying to grab my arm to steer me out.

I stepped aside, avoiding his hand.

“Sit down, Graham,” I said.

“Don’t tell me to sit down,” he hissed, his face flushing a dark red. “I am trying to save our family from a massive banking error.”

“It is not an error,” Arthur Vance said, standing up.