“We’re ready for tomorrow morning.”

“Does he have any idea about the seventy-three-million-dollar disclosure?” I asked.

“He’ll see it for the first time when we open this binder across the conference table,” Rachel said.

I picked up the blue vinyl binder from the desk, closed the thick cover over the indexed pages, and snapped the latch shut with a firm, decisive click.

The mahogany conference table in Rachel Kim’s office had four black leather chairs on each side, each pushed up to the polished edge.

Rachel sat on my left, lining up her legal pad until its margin ran parallel to the frosted glass divider between us and the hallway.