The boardroom had become a slaughterhouse where the condemned were forced to watch their execution. Each click of the remote in my trembling fingers felt like a dagger finding its mark. My pulse hammered so violently I could taste copper on my tongue, but I forced my voice to remain steady as stone.
Twenty-three board members leaned forward like wolves scenting blood. The unified hostility that had surrounded me was cracking, fracturing into something far more dangerous—dawning horror mixed with savage anticipation.
I laid out Julian's crimes with surgical precision. Each email, each encrypted message, each blood-soaked bank transfer painted a picture so damning that even I felt sick watching it unfold. The shadow ledgers revealed payments from Croft Enterprises—not Prescott Group—to cor
