Grace's POV
Grace's hands were steady as she walked into Vincent's study but her heart was beating so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.
This was it. This was the moment where she stopped being careful and started being dangerous.
Vincent was alone. The curtains were drawn. The room felt like a tomb and maybe that's what it was. Maybe this was where people came to die, not physically but in every other way that mattered.
"You have the report," Vincent said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
Grace set the bound document on his desk. She'd spent three days perfecting it. Every number verified. Every transaction traced. Every connection documented with such precision that there was no room for interpretation or doubt.
"Walk me through it," Vincent said.
Grace opened to the first page. Her voice was professional. Clinical. She was talking about money the way a scientist talked about specimens under a microscope.
