Chapter 12 - The Reckoning Table
The long mahogany table was packed with the foundation's most powerful stakeholders. At the head sat Richard Vance, his silver hair neatly combed, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he tapped a gold fountain pen against the polished wood. As Ethan and I entered, the collective breathing in the room hitched. Whispers rippled down the flanks of the table. No one had expected Ethan to arrive with me, let alone place me in the auxiliary seat directly beside him.
"Ethan," Vance purred, leaning back in his leather chair with exaggerated casualness. "We didn't realize you were bringing guests to an executive review. Especially not someone whose loyalty has been... somewhat publicly complicated."
Ethan pulled out his chair and seated himself with absolute, chilling composure, gesturing for me to do the same. "Save the theatrics, Richard. We know about the shell companies in the Caymans. We know about the falsified ledger entries you uploaded through the terminal at dawn."
Vance’s smirk faltered for a single heartbeat before he recovered, flashing a cold, predatory smile. "A bold accusation without proof, Moretti. The board operates on verified documentation, not bitter ghost stories told by disgruntled assistants."
"She isn't a disgruntled assistant," Ethan replied, his voice cutting through the heavy air like a scalpel. "She's the only person in this building who kept accurate records while you were busy turning our foundation into your personal piggy bank."
Vance slammed his hands flat against the mahogany table, standing up so fast his chair screeched against the marble floor. "This is absurd! I move for an immediate vote of no confidence against Ethan Moretti. All in favor—"
"Sit down, Richard," I said, my voice steady, carrying an icy clarity that surprised even myself. I unzipped the leather portfolio, sliding the physical vouchers and the ink-matched threatening notes across the grain of the polished wood. "Before you call for a vote, you might want to check the analog signatures on the distribution vouchers you signed last Tuesday."
Vance froze, his eyes darting down to the papers spread before him. The ink signatures matched the exact chemical composition of the stolen ledger records we had analyzed the night before.
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"You're finished, Richard," Ethan added quietly, leaning forward to lock eyes with his rival. "Federal marshals are currently securing the server rooms downstairs, and Noah just locked your administrative override keys from the terminal."
The color drained entirely from Vance's face as the reality of the trap closed around him. The silence in the room was absolute.
