“I sold a piece of technology months before the crash.

None of you ever had access to it.

You tried to end my life for a fortune you could never have touched.” Emiliano lunged toward the computer, and the officials had him before he reached it, and then the room filled all at once with voices and ringing phones and moving feet.

I had debated whether to show the number at all.

It changed nothing legally — the case against them was already built, already handed over, already unstoppable.

But I showed it because I needed the three of them to understand the full shape of what they had done, and the number was the only language they had ever really spoken.