The room smelled faintly of citrus and wood polish, but to me it might as well have been smoke and steel. I sat at the long table, fingers curled around a closed folder marked PRIVATE, my name printed discreetly in the top corner. There were no cameras. No reporters. No flashes. This was not a spectacle. It was something quieter. Far more dangerous. It was the board’s internal audit session. And I was no longer hiding behind signatures or trust documents. I was here. Fully.

Across from me ...