CHAPTER 6: THE FOLDER FROM THE SERVICE CORRIDOR

Richard lifted one hand.
Mr. Cole, his chief of security, stepped forward with a black leather folder.
It had not been in the ballroom five minutes earlier. It had come from the corridor where Isabelle had been struck, from the small office where Ethan thought one unlocked drawer would make him rich.
Ethan looked at the folder and went still.
"You had someone following me," he said.
Isabelle answered before her father could.
"No. I had someone protecting the foundation. You happened to be stealing from it."
The folder opened.
No one read the pages aloud. They did not need to. Bank transfers. donor account access, forged approvals, hotel corridor logs, and a copy of Ethan's own signature were enough to drain color from his face.
A waiter near the floral centerpiece looked down.
He had seen Ethan leave the service corridor minutes before Isabelle came out with blood at her mouth.
Richard noticed him.
"You saw something."
The waiter swallowed.
"I saw him grab her arm, sir. I heard her tell him to stop."
Ethan turned sharply.
"You don't know what you heard."
The young waiter flinched.
Isabelle did not.
"He knows exactly what he heard. So do I."