“Julian, the account logs from Tuesday show a manual override,” I said.

“She wakes up at three in the morning imagining phantom bank transactions,” Julian went on, talking over me in a loud voice that echoed off the high plaster ceiling.

“We had to hire a private nurse just to keep an eye on her stress levels.”

The two directors stepped back, their faces tightening into uncomfortable masks as they looked at the floor between us.

One of them cleared his throat, murmured something about finding his table, and walked off.