The conference room on the top floor of Steele Enterprises was designed to intimidate.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. A massive table of polished dark wood dominated the center. Leather chairs that cost more than most people's monthly salary lined both sides.
Richard Steele sat at the head of the table, his expression carefully neutral. Around him, the board members filled in one by one, their faces ranging from concerned to openly hostile.
Ethan sat three seats down from Richard, his posture straight, his hands folded on the table in front of him. He'd barely slept. Had spent most of the night going through files, emails, anything that might help him prove his innocence.
It hadn't helped.
The evidence of his innocence existed, sure. But proving a negative was nearly impossible. How do you prove you didn't assault someone? How do you prove you didn't embezzle funds when someone was determined to make it look like you did?
