Chapter 3: The Digital Reckoning
“What did you do?” Julian hissed, his voice turning from mocking to frantic. “Shut it off! Elena, shut it off!”
“I can’t,” she said, her voice carrying through the ballroom’s sound system, which she had tapped into seconds ago. “It’s already being broadcast. Every donor, every regulator, every journalist in this room has the file now. The envelope was just the hard copy for the police.”
The ballroom became a chaotic sea of movement. Phones were held aloft, cameras capturing the incriminating bank statements and wire transfers. Beatrice tried to grab the envelope from Julian, but her hands were shaking too violently to grip the paper. Her face, usually a mask of controlled elegance, was suddenly a portrait of raw, unvarnished fear.
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“You’re ruining us,” Beatrice spat, her voice no longer cool, but shrill and frantic. “You’re ruining the family name!”
“The name was already ruined,” Elena said, her voice ice-cold. “I just brought the receipts.”
