“Turn that off!”
Paul forced the chair backward.
Arthur’s recorded voice continued.
“Leon said Victor would never ask questions once he heard I had stolen.
He said the easiest lie to sell a powerful man is the one that flatters his anger.”
Victor’s eyes shifted toward Leon.
Leon’s face was wet with sweat.
“That accountant fabricated everything,” he said.
“He had access to the books.”
The recording ended.
The countdown showed two minutes and forty-eight seconds.
Several folders unlocked at once.
Victor opened the first.
It contained shipping invoices nearly identical to those on his desk.
The vendor names were legitimate at first glance, but the account numbers led to shell companies.
Payment approvals carried Leon’s authorization codes.
Dates, totals, warehouse numbers, and transfer confirmations formed a pattern too precise to dismiss.
Paul leaned over Victor’s shoulder.
“I remember this shipment,” he said.
“The vessel never docked here.
Leon said weather delayed it.”
Victor opened another file.
Photographs showed empty storage units listed as active freight depots.
A third folder contained copies of messages in which Leon instructed Arthur to divide payments below internal review limits.
Leon shook his head faster with each page.
“Digital records can be altered.”
“They can,” Victor said.
He opened an audio file.
Leon’s own voice came through the speakers.
“Move the payment tonight.
Use Hale Freight as the sender.
If anyone asks, Victor approved it.”
Leon stopped denying.
Instead, he attacked.
“You think any of this matters?” he shouted.
“Every man in this room has stolen for you.
Threatened for you.
Hurt people for you.
You built the machine, Victor.
Don’t pretend you’re shocked because one gear took something for itself.”
Victor slowly lowered the laptop screen halfway, muting its cold light without closing it.
Leon smiled as if he had finally found the wound.
“You’re angry because I used your name? Your name is the reason any of this works.
Those men hit her because they knew what happened to people who disappointed you.”
Sadie watched Victor absorb the words.
No one defended him.
Not Paul.
Not Mick.
Not Teeth.
Victor had spent years believing silence meant loyalty.
In that warehouse, he finally understood that silence could also mean fear.
The countdown reached one minute and fifty-nine seconds.
Victor turned to Sadie.
“Can you stop the release?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
