From behind Mark, the heavy, imposing figure of my father appeared in the doorway. He didn't have his carving knife anymore. His face had gone chalk-white, his jaw slack as he stared down at his own screen. The man who had ruled over our family and his corporate empire like a petty dictator looked, for the very first time in his life, like an old man standing on the edge of an abyss.
“Claire,” my father choked out, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and blind rage as he took a heavy step forward. “You didn't. That database contains three decades of structural contracts, international shipping manifests, and municipal authorizations. If you triggered a Level One forensic audit lock, the SEC will have our entire ledger by midnight.”
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“Then I suggest you start packing a bag, Dad,” I replied evenly, opening the back door of my sedan and helping Lily climb safely into her booster seat. “Because unlike your turkey, those files are completely unburnable.”