He pointed at me like volume created truth. He accused me of theft, fraud, abuse, instability. Donna piled on. Nicole kept filming, no doubt imagining how she would edit my silence into guilt. Around us, employees froze. Visitors slowed. Security stayed exactly where I had positioned them—close enough to intervene, far enough to let the rope unwind.
When Ryan felt the room had fully turned toward him, he pulled the silver flash drive from his pocket and held it up.
“I don’t think you’re calling the police,” he said, grinning. “Because I have your secrets.”
So he had gone into my office.
Good.
“Are you threatening me?” I asked.
“I’m making an offer,” he said. “Half a million by end of day, and the house deed in my name. Otherwise I leak everything.”
Nicole stepped closer with the phone. “Pay him.”
Daniel stepped forward and slapped the civil filings into Ryan’s chest: restraining orders, identity theft claims, fraud actions, defamation complaints. Ryan laughed them off because fools are only frightened by consequences they can already picture.
“Prove it,” I said.
He blinked. “What?”
“If you have my data, show it. Right now. Plug in the drive.”