I opened it to find her still in her pale green top and tactical pants, looking like she'd processed enough data to fill a library.
"The data checks out," she said without preamble, entering the room. "Every account, every transaction, every crime. It's all real."
"I know."
She moved into the room with the fluid grace of someone trained to assess threats in microseconds. Even in civilian clothes, she radiated lethal competence. But there was calculation in her dark eyes now — the look of someone trying to solve an equation with missing variables.
"The eighteen billion is really there," she continued.
"Ready to transfer the moment you agree to my terms."
"Terms beyond Charlotte's ownership?"
This was the crucial moment. I walked to the window, keeping my real thoughts hidden.
