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Then, the screen changed. It showed bank transfers. Millions of dollars diverted from the company’s pension fund into an account under Vivian’s maiden name—authorized by Marcus’s digital signature.
“The merger is dead, Marcus,” I said, leaning in so only he could hear. “The Sterling Group doesn’t partner with embezzlers. Or murderers.”
“I’ll kill you,” he hissed, his face contorting into the monster I had seen that night in the visiting room. “I’ll put you back in that hole!”
“You can’t,” I whispered. “Because while you were busy celebrating tonight, the District Attorney was reviewing the confession your ‘loyal’ doctor gave an hour ago. He didn’t want to go to prison for you, Marcus. No one does.