Gerald Fitch had been with the Vale organization since Dominic was twenty-eight years old.

He had been at the table when Dominic's father handed over control.

He had been in the room when Dominic signed his first major acquisition.

He had attended the funeral when Dominic's wife passed, seven years ago, and he had stood at the back of the church with his hat in his hands and said nothing because there was nothing useful to say, and Gerald Fitch had always understood the difference.

Dominic had trusted him the way you trust a wall that has never moved.

He brought Gerald into the study alone, without Vincent, and closed the door.

Gerald sat in the chair across from the desk.

He was sixty-four, broad-shouldered, with the kind of face that had stopped being readable about twenty years ago.

He looked at Dominic and waited.

Dominic placed the photograph on the desk between them.

"Paul Derry works for you."

Gerald looked at the photograph.

"He does."

"He's the man in the security footage.

He tampered with the brace."

Gerald said nothing.

"Angela Pierce documented it.

Twelve photographs over four weeks.

Derry was in the rehabilitation unit on a false authorization signed by Mercer.

He reset the retaining plate every time it was corrected." Dominic kept his voice even.

"I need you to tell me what you know."

Gerald looked up from the photograph.

"How much do you already have?"

"Enough.

I want to hear it from you."

A long pause.

Gerald's hands rested on his knees.

He didn't fidget.

He didn't look away.

"Arthur came to me eight weeks ago," he said.

"Right after your surgery.

He told me the recovery wasn't going well and that the organization needed a contingency plan.

He said the medical assessment supported it.

He said it was temporary." He paused.

"He asked me to assign someone to monitor the rehabilitation unit.

To make sure the reports coming out of it were accurate."

"He asked you to assign Paul Derry."

"He suggested Derry by name.

I didn't ask why."

"And you didn't ask why a man with no medical background needed access to the rehabilitation unit."

Gerald's jaw moved.

"No."

"Did you know what Derry was doing in there?"

The pause this time was longer.

"I suspected something was wrong three weeks ago.

Derry gave me a report that didn't match what I was seeing with my own eyes.

You were getting worse on paper.

In the room, you didn't look like a man who was getting worse." Gerald's voice stayed flat.

"I told myself I was misreading it."

"You told yourself."

"I told myself it wasn't my place to question a medical assessment."

Dominic looked at him.

"You've questioned everything in this organization for twenty-two years.

Every contract, every hire, every number that didn't add up.

That's why I kept you at that table." He leaned forward.

"Don't tell me you looked the other way because it wasn't your place."

Gerald's hands tightened on his knees.

"Arthur told me the document was protective.

That it would revert the moment you were cleared."

"And the note on the draft?

*After the vote.* Whose handwriting?"

Gerald was quiet for three full seconds.

"Mine," he said.

The word sat between them.

"Arthur asked me to confirm the timing," Gerald said.

"He said it needed to be executed cleanly, after the vote was formalized, so there was no legal ambiguity.

I wrote the note as a reminder.

I didn't —" He stopped.

"I didn't understand what I was confirming."

"Or you didn't let yourself understand."

Gerald didn't argue.

Dominic stood.

He walked to the window.

The rain had stopped.

The lake was dark and flat and gave nothing back.

"Arthur has been building this for fifteen years," Dominic said.

"He needed the brace to keep me weak long enough for the vote.

He needed Mercer's signature to make it look medical.

He needed your note to set the timing." He turned.

"He used every person in this building who trusted him."

"I know."

"Including you."

"Yes."

"The question I have for you now, Gerald, is whether you're going to help me finish it or whether you're going to spend the rest of the night deciding how much of this you're responsible for."

Gerald looked at him for a long time.

Then he reached into his jacket and placed a small USB drive on the desk.

"Arthur sent me a file six weeks ago," he said.

"Encrypted.

He told me it was the legal framework for the transfer.

I had my own man copy it before I opened it." He nodded at the drive.

"It's not a legal framework.

It's a full restructuring plan.

Every Vale asset, redistributed across four shell companies.

Two of them registered in Arthur's wife's name."

Dominic picked up the drive.

"He wasn't planning temporary authority," Gerald said.

"He was planning permanent transfer.

The vote tonight was never going to be reversed."

The rain started again outside, soft and steady against the glass.

"Why are you giving me this now?"

Gerald looked at his hands.

"Because I've been sitting in that conference room for three hours watching Arthur pour himself water and smile at people, and I've been thinking about the fact that you walked across that room tonight." He looked up.

"You walked across that room because a four-year-old girl noticed something the rest of us were too careful not to see."

He stood.

"I should have noticed three weeks ago.

I didn't.

That's mine to carry." He nodded toward the drive.

"But I'm not letting him finish it."