Daniel Wright scrambled out of the chair as if it had suddenly turned into white-hot iron. He backed away, stumbling against the glass wall of the penthouse, his chest heaving. Ethan didn't even look at him as he sat down, resting his elbows on the table and interlacing his fingers.

The room was silent enough to hear the sweat dripping off the brows of the men in expensive suits.

"Mr. Sterling isn't just here to check the ledgers. This company is considered a critical infrastructure asset for the government. There are heavy suspicions regarding the illegal sale of proprietary technology and large-scale stock manipulation to benefit foreign entities—causing hundreds of millions in losses for American firms," said Ethan.

He paused, letting the words sink in. He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over the Halbert loyalists.

"In the eyes of the law, that isn't just corporate fraud. That is treason against the state," said Ethan.

The blood drained from their faces instantly. Several board members who had been trying to maintain a look of indignant outrage turned ghostly white. They knew it was true. Under Halbert, they had authorized "consultancy fees" and "offshore transfers" that were now being framed in the most lethal way possible.

[Master, I have identified the primary encrypted logs for the foreign transfers. I can bridge into the local network and force the executive printer to output the specific authorization forms they thought were deleted] said Crul in his mind.

Do it. I want them to see their own signatures while they're still trying to think of an excuse, thought Ethan.

[Accessing... Network bridge established. The printer is now under my control. Standing by for your signal] said Crul.

Ethan looked at the group of terrified men and women, then gave a small, predatory smile.

"I can see you're struggling to remember the details of those deals. Don't worry, I brought some memory aids," said Ethan.

He didn't move a muscle. He didn't touch a laptop or a phone. Suddenly, the heavy industrial printer in the corner of the room whirred to life. It began spitting out pages at a high velocity, the sound of the mechanical feeder cutting through the silence like gunfire.

The board members jumped, staring at the machine in shock.

"How... how is that possible? No one has the IP for that printer outside of the local server admin!" shouted Wright.

"I told you, Daniel. I own the air in here. That includes the digital air," said Ethan.

Ethan stood up and walked to the printer, catching the first few sheets as they flew out. He walked back to the table and tossed a paper in front of each loyalist. It was a copy of an encrypted wire transfer, complete with their digital signatures and the timestamp of the crime.

"Page one: the sale of the Gen-5 satellite blueprints to a shell company in the Cayman Islands. Page two: your signature, Daniel. Shall we keep going, or are you ready to tell me where the rest of the money is hidden?" said Ethan.

The silence that followed was broken only by the frantic sound of the printer, churning out evidence of their downfall.

Ethan picked up another thick stack of papers from the printer tray, the heat of the freshly printed ink still radiating from the pages. He walked slowly around the table, the sound of his footsteps the only thing louder than the pounding hearts in the room.

"I know the true nature of your business. Beneath this mask of being a mere market speculator, you've been a harvesting machine. You've been acquiring American companies only to gut them—selling technology, secrets, and hardware to the highest bidder overseas," said Ethan.

He stopped behind Daniel Wright and dropped a handful of documents directly onto the mahogany surface. The papers slid across the table, stopping in front of the horrified board members.

"This isn't just corporate espionage. You've been funneling advanced sensors and high-grade materials to a known terrorist cell in the Middle East. You've been fueling the very fires the world is trying to put out, all for a percentage," said Ethan.

With every accusation, Ethan slammed a new set of documents onto the table. The sound echoed like a judge's gavel.

"The sale of encrypted communication arrays? There's the authorization, signed by you, Daniel," said Ethan.

"The illegal export of drone components? Signed by the head of logistics and the CFO," said Ethan.

Finally, he slammed the last package of papers right in the center of the table. It was a comprehensive ledger of a secret account.

"And here is the crown jewel. A list of deposits totaling nearly 600 million dollars. All of it signed and verified by every single person sitting on the right side of this table. You didn't just sell out my father; you sold out your country. You've been bankrolling mass murderers while pretending to be pillars of the community," said Ethan.

Daniel Wright stared at his own signature on a document detailing a transaction with a shell company linked to international extremists. His hands began to shake so violently that he had to grip the table to keep from falling.

"This... this is a setup! We didn't know who the end-users were! We were told they were legitimate contractors!" shouted Wright, his voice cracking with desperation.

"The Federal Auditor doesn't care what you were 'told,' Daniel. He only cares about where the money went and whose name is on the bottom of the blood-stained check," said Ethan.

The room remained deathly silent, the only sound being the ragged breathing of men who realized their lives had just ended. Ethan straightened his jacket and pointed a finger toward the door, then looked at the five individuals who had remained loyal to the Blake legacy all these years.

"Miller, Robert, Arthur, Marcus, and Elena. You stay. Everyone else... get out of my sight. Now," said Ethan.

Daniel Wright and the other traitors scrambled to their feet, their legs nearly giving out. They didn't even try to grab their briefcases or phones. They moved toward the exit like ghosts fleeing the light.

"Don't bother looking for your cars. Outside, there is a team of specialists waiting for you. They will escort you directly to a federal holding facility where you can spend the rest of your miserable lives trying to explain those signatures to a judge," said Ethan.

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