Each new lie produced another record.

Each new record made Diane grin.

The board gathered on January 14th in the conference room on the top floor of our Boston headquarters. Snow slid past the windows, blurring the harbor into a sheet of gray.

Twelve directors ringed the long walnut table. Several had known my father personally. Others had invested after Victor came aboard. Every face looked guarded.

Arthur Bell cleared his throat. “Claire, no one questions your competence.”

Statements like that usually introduce the exact opposite.