Ryan looked away.
Brooke straightened the papers.
Dad stared at the empty chair where I had been sitting.
Mom continued.
“Not for tonight.
Before tonight.
Did anyone ever thank Emily for anything?”
Dad’s mouth hardened.
“Children do not need medals for helping their parents.”
“She is thirty-two.”
“She is still my daughter.”
“You just said she wasn’t one of us.”
Dad stood again.
“Enough.”
He gathered the papers, shoved them back into the leather folder, and handed it to Brooke.
“Write the letter.”
Brooke glanced toward the small black camera near the ceiling.
For the first time, fear appeared on her face.
“Is that thing recording audio?”
Dad looked up.
“Only when it detects movement.”
Ryan pointed toward the blinking red light.
“We’ve been moving.”
Dad walked beneath the camera and reached toward the wall switch.
The picture went black.
The file ended.
Nobody spoke in the conference room for several seconds.
Then Dad’s attorney asked for a private break.
My counsel refused.
“Your clients threatened business interference, made materially false claims in a written demand, and attempted to preserve access to funds after expressly rejecting the donor.
We are prepared to seek declaratory relief, attorney’s fees, and sanctions related to evidence representations.”
Brooke finally looked at me.
“Emily, this has gone too far.”
It was almost impressive.
She had helped write a threat against my company, but the moment her own words appeared on-screen, I was the person taking things too far.
I folded my hands on the table.
“You said the footage had been deleted.”
“Dad told me it was.”
“You told my counsel that you had confirmed it.”
She did not answer.
Ryan leaned forward.
“Nobody was actually going to contact your partners.”
My counsel slid a second document across the table.
It was a printout of three emails Ryan had sent from his bank address to companies that worked with mine.
The messages described an urgent family dispute and asked whether my business had policies governing executive misconduct.
One recipient had forwarded the email to our legal department.
Ryan’s face emptied.
“I was asking questions.”
“Using your employer’s account,” my counsel said.
“That has nothing to do with the bank.”
“Your employer disagrees.”
We had not contacted the bank to punish him.
Our counsel had sent a routine litigation-preservation notice because the messages came from its system.
The bank’s compliance department opened its own review.
Ryan’s certainty disappeared.
Brooke turned on him.
