He began to sob — real, ugly tears streaking down his bruised face.

He reached for my hand, but I stepped out of reach.

“I gave the flash drive to the DA yesterday,” I told him.

His sobs hitched. He froze, staring at my knees.

“Vanessa turned on you,” I continued, a ruthless sense of closure washing over me. “The FBI has the un-doctored files. The SEC has the offshore account numbers. And there are two federal agents waiting in the lobby right now. My security chief flagged you the moment you walked into the building.”

Daniel let out a sound that was half-moan, half-scream. He scrambled out of the chair, looking wildly toward the doors, then the windows.