Shadows in the Boardroom
The air in the Sterling Group boardroom was thin, scrubbed clean by high-end filtration systems, but it couldn't mask the metallic tang of panic. Arthur Vance stood in the doorway, his presence a silent, immovable weight. At the head of the mahogany table, Marcus Sterling was hunched over an industrial-grade shredder, his hands trembling as he fed it thick, blue-bordered files—the physical evidence of the North Pier dredging fraud.
"The auditors are in the lobby, Marcus," Arthur said, his voice devoid of the performative subservience he had maintained for years. "They aren't here for a tour. They’re here to inventory the wreckage."
Marcus spun around, his face a mottled, vein-mapped map of fury. He clutched a final, leather-bound ledger to his chest. &quo
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