The lobby of the Solmere Hotel was built to impress.

Charlotte had not known about Dominic.

That was the gap in her map — the piece she had spent four months trying to find, the name that kept appearing at the edge of documents and then disappearing before she could pin it down.

An initial here.

A cc on an email there.

A signature on a wire transfer that routed through three different accounts before landing somewhere she couldn't follow.

She had known someone else was involved.

She had not known it was Vivienne's brother.

She looked at the folder Richard had slid across the table.

Wire transfers.

Account numbers.

Dates.

Eighteen months of quiet, careful movement — money flowing out of Solmere's legitimate accounts and into a structure so layered it would take a forensic accountant weeks to fully untangle.

"How much?" Grace asked.

"Across all accounts?" Richard said.

"Approximately forty-three million."

Arthur Crane made a sound that wasn't quite a word.

"He's been here before," Marcus said from the window.

He had his phone in his hand.

"I've seen him.

He came to the hotel twice last year.

Vivienne introduced him as a financial consultant.

I didn't know his last name."

"He used a different name professionally," Richard said.

"Dominic Reeve.

Ashcroft is his birth name."

Charlotte closed the folder.

"Where is he now?"

"He has a meeting," Richard said.

"Here.

In this building.

Vivienne scheduled it this morning, before —" He stopped.

"Before things changed."

Grace looked at Charlotte.

"She called him in."

"She was trying to move the money," Charlotte said.

"Before the legal hold locked the accounts." She stood up.

"What time is the meeting?"

Richard checked his watch.

"Three o'clock."

It was two fifty-one.

Charlotte picked up her phone and called the number Marcus had given her for hotel security.

The head of security answered on the second ring.

"The man coming in for a three o'clock meeting with Ms.

Ashcroft," Charlotte said.

"His name may be listed as Dominic Reeve.

Do not let him leave the building." She paused.

"And please let him come upstairs."

She ended the call.

"You're going to let him walk in?" Marcus asked.

"I want to hear what he says when he thinks he's still in control," Charlotte said.

"People tell you everything when they think they've already won."

Grace set a small digital recorder on the table.

"I'll be in the adjoining room."

"Good."

The board members looked at each other.

Arthur stood up slowly.

"I'll stay," he said.

"If that's all right."

Charlotte nodded.

"Sit at the far end.

Don't say anything unless I ask you to."

At three minutes past three, the elevator doors opened in the hallway outside.

Dominic Ashcroft was taller than Charlotte had expected.

He wore a dark coat, carried a leather portfolio, and walked with the ease of a man who had never once been asked to wait.

He pushed the conference room door open without knocking.

He saw Charlotte.

He saw Arthur.

He did not see Grace's recorder through the slightly open door of the adjoining room.

"You must be the woman from the lobby," he said.

His voice was smooth, almost amused.

"Vivienne called me.

She said there was a situation."

"There is," Charlotte said.

"Sit down."

He didn't sit.

He looked around the room slowly, taking inventory.

"Where is my sister?"

"Downstairs.

She's been served with a civil complaint.

She's with her attorney." Charlotte gestured at the chair across from her.

"Sit down, Mr.

Ashcroft."

Something shifted in his expression.

Just slightly.

"You know my name."

"I know quite a bit about you.

Forty-three million dollars' worth, approximately."

He set his portfolio on the table.

He did not sit.

"I don't know what Vivienne has told you, but I'm a financial consultant.

Whatever she's involved in —"

"You routed the first transfer through an account registered to a shell company in the Cayman Islands," Charlotte said.

"The company's registered agent is a man named Paul Sefton.

Paul Sefton is your college roommate.

He hasn't lived in the Caymans.

He lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, and he signed the incorporation documents as a favor." She opened the folder.

"I have his email confirming that."

Dominic's hand rested on his portfolio.

"The second transfer went through Luxembourg," Charlotte continued.

"The third through Singapore.

But the fourth one — the one from eight months ago — went directly into an account held in your name at a private bank in Geneva." She looked up.

"That one was sloppy."

He looked at her for a long moment.

"You're not going to walk out of this building with anything," she said.

"The accounts are frozen.

Richard has already given us a full account of his role.

The board has reviewed the footage from the fourteenth floor." She folded her hands.

"What I'm offering you right now is the same thing I offered Gerald this morning.

Cooperation.

A written account.

Full disclosure."

Dominic picked up his portfolio.

"Or," he said, "I walk out of here, get on a plane, and you spend the next three years trying to extradite me from a country that doesn't have a treaty."

Charlotte didn't move.

"Security is at the elevator," she said.

"And the lobby.

And the side entrance." She paused.

"And the DA's office received a referral forty minutes ago.

Your passport has been flagged."

The portfolio stayed in his hand.

"You planned this," he said.

Not angry.

Almost admiring.

"You planned all of it before you walked in this morning."

"My mother planned most of it," Charlotte said.