I Caught My Fiancée Dragging Our BLOODY Housekeeper at Midnight—Then She Whispered My DEAD Brother's Name!

They locked me in a storage room beneath the tower and took my phone. I heard the men leave. For ten minutes, I tried the door, then the vent, then the narrow window above a stack of drywall.

My recorder was still running.

Omar found me forty minutes later after tracking the signal. He had two police officers with him. Camila and her men were gone.

Grace had already called an emergency session of the board. The vote was underway, and Richard Sloane was presenting a statement that claimed I had threatened Camila and falsified evidence.

I arrived at headquarters just as the directors were raising their hands.

"Stop the vote," I said.

Richard turned. His face barely moved.

"Alex, this is a private board matter."

"Then let's keep it private. Play the recording."

Grace connected my recorder to the conference room system. Camila's voice filled the room.

"Your brother should have died seven years ago."

Then came my question, her answer, and the sound of the men taking me.

The room erupted. One director demanded to know why the company had paid Sloane Holdings for services that had never been delivered. Another asked whether the board had been lied to about Nicholas's death. Richard tried to answer both questions at once, but the more he spoke, the less control he had. For the first time in years, the Vance name was not enough to make the room obey.

Richard stood. "This is edited."

"Then explain the ledger," Grace said, placing the original documents on the table.

One director turned pale. Another reached for his phone.

Before anyone could speak, the conference room doors opened.