Adrian sat white-faced and shaking at the far end of the table.

And I stood, and I connected my laptop to the screen, and I showed the board of Northstar Medical exactly what the last six months of my quiet arithmetic had found.

The payment records.

The three phantom firms and their single shared postal box.

The forged vendor approvals bearing Adrian’s signature.

And then the private messages, recovered lawfully in the course of the internal investigation, that made every intention unmistakable.