Preston let out a short, cynical laugh. "You think you're some kind of hero, Vance. Sweeping in to save the company. I read the internal memos. You bought this place to protect the legacy of that dead engineer who designed the Apex."
Hearing him reference Elena made the air in the room feel incredibly thin. I kept my breathing even, my eyes locked on his face.
"Her name was Elena," I said.
"I don't care what her name was," Preston sneered, picking up a silver pen from the desk and turning it over in his hands. "Her design was an expensive joke. The dual-combustion matrix? It costs too much to manufacture. It cuts into our profit margins. Arthur and I knew the board would eventually figure that out, so we made a... strategic adjustment."
I looked at the desk. Among the scattered papers, I saw shipping manifests. Not for whole cars. For parts. High-end, proprietary battery matrices.
The clues snapped together in my mind with terrifying clarity.
The missing titanium watches. The panicked way Preston had guarded the trunk of the Apex on the floor. Arthur's terrified submission.
"You're not just gatekeeping," I said, my voice cold. "You're stripping the company. You're selling the proprietary tech on the black market to rival manufacturers."
Arthur groaned from his chair. "Preston, stop. Please. He's the majority owner. If you tell him..."
"He’s not going to do a damn thing, Arthur!" Preston snapped, slamming the pen onto the desk. He glared at me, his face flushed with arrogant rage. "Yes, Vance. I'm selling the tech. I have a buyer flying in from Dubai tonight. They're paying fifty million under the table for the matrix inside that prototype downstairs. We've been stripping the R&D budget for six months to cover our tracks."
I looked at the heavy titanium watch on his wrist. "And you couldn't resist stealing from the private vault along the way."
Preston instinctively touched the watch, a brief flash of guilt crossing his face before it hardened back into defiance. "Perks of the job. You think because you have a piece of paper that says you own the shares, you own this place? You don't. The supply chains, the VIP clients, the security... they work for me."
"You're an event manager," I said, my voice deadpan.
"I'm the guy who makes the money," Preston corrected, stepping closer. "And tonight, that car downstairs is being loaded onto a private transport truck the moment the gala ends. Your wife's little legacy is going to be ripped apart in a chop shop in the Emirates so they can reverse-engineer the battery."
My heart hammered against my ribs, a slow, violent rhythm. He wasn't just stealing money. He was destroying the last piece of brilliance Elena had left behind. He was actively trying to erase her from the world to line his own pockets.
I looked down at Leo. He was watching me, his eyes wide and trusting. He didn't understand the corporate espionage, but he understood that the bad man was talking about Mommy.
I took a slow, deep breath, centering myself.
"You made a mistake bringing me into this office, Preston," I said quietly.
Preston laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Oh? And what are you going to do, Vance? Call the police? My security guards will confiscate your phone. You're going to sit in this room quietly until the truck leaves. Then, Arthur is going to sign a document stepping down as CEO and transferring the remaining liquid assets to a shell company. If you try to stop us, things will get very bad for you. And your kid."
He crossed a line.
Threatening my money was one thing. Threatening my wife's legacy was another. But explicitly threatening my son?
That was an irreversible decision.
I didn't yell. I didn't posture. I simply reached into my pocket again.
The massive security guard stepped forward instantly, reaching for my arm.