“What’s wrong?” Camila murmured.

Julian ignored her, hands shaking as he scrolled the board messages. At 5:11 a.m. the CFO had written: “What is this?” At 5:16, Julian’s father — Arthur Sterling, who had handed him the company — had sent a single line: “You are a fool.”

“Give me your phone,” Julian said suddenly.

Camila frowned. “Why?”

He snatched it off the nightstand and unlocked it with her face. There it was: the same image, sent to me at 3:01 a.m. Julian stared at her in horror.

“You sent it.”