She picked up the phone and tapped the glass.

The screen lit up instantly without asking for a passcode, opening straight to a private message thread.

“The SoHo private accounts are active under the corporate LLC,” Sierra Vaughn had written at nine forty that evening.

“Did you clear the wire?”

Cole had replied three minutes later from his office desk.

“Keep the transfers under thirty thousand a week until the audit clears.”

Lauren touched her left wrist, where the pale skin still felt tender under her sleeve.