Page 140 of Keller

Ridge's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "How much time?"

"Enough that I know who she is." I meet his gaze. "And I haven't spoken to her since this escalated, if you're wondering."

The silence stretches. Vin shifts in his chair, pen tapping against the folder.

"So you're not in contact." Ridge's tone stays neutral. Testing.

"No."

"But you're defending her."

“I’m asking a question.” I lean forward, hands flat on the table. “Why is destroying someone’s career, their life, the necessary move here? She did her job. She saw something that didn’t align and flagged it. That’s what federal auditors are paid to do.”

Vin inhales like he’s about to respond, but Ridge stops him with a small lift of his hand.

“Federal scrutiny doesn’t stay contained,” Ridge says. He doesn’t raise his voice. He rarely does. “It expands. Investigators don’t stop at the box you give them. They pull adjacent records and widen the scope. Even disciplined operations can be reframed under enough light.”

“We are disciplined,” I say evenly. “We structure everything for review. That’s why we spend what we spend on compliance and outside counsel. If they want to audit October, let them audit October. We hand over what they request, answer what they ask, and they move on.”

Ridge’s gaze sharpens. “That’s not how this works, and you know it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

He leans back slightly. “Once they’re inside, they start asking why. Why that transfer? Why that vendor? Why that timing? It doesn’t matter if it’s legal. If it looks interesting, they chase it.”

Vin steps in with his characteristic controlled voice. “We are not talking about criminal exposure. We’re talking about narrative exposure. If they start constructing a story aroundRobert’s death, around the weeks before it, around our positioning afterward, perception becomes leverage.”

October becomes irrelevant if the scope widens. The room stills at that.

I think about the tables. The markers. The quiet extensions of credit to men who prefer no invoices attached to their names. All structured within the law. All carefully layered. But layering only works when the people reviewing it aren’t looking for a headline.

“She could have withdrawn it,” Ridge says finally. “She didn’t. Now we manage the consequences.”

“And managing it means dismantling her?” I ask.

“It means applying pressure where it’s effective.”

"This is strategic, not personal." Vin straightens his tie. "We're protecting the company and the family. That includes you."

My composure thins. The careful detachment I've cultivated since Savannah, since learning the truth about Mom, since walking away from Quinn's door. It frays at the edges.

"Is there anything?" I ask directly. "Anything the feds will actually find if they dig?"

Ridge holds my gaze. Three seconds. Four.

"Federal scrutiny is never neutral." He stands, signaling the meeting's end. "They don't look for truth. They look for leverage. And they always find something."

He walks toward the door. Vin gathers his folders.

I stay seated, my arms crossed, looking down the empty table. I run through all of this in my head. Quinn isn't my problem, but I'm not okay destroying her. And I won't sit by and let my brother do it, either.

Three hours later, I text Ridge from my car.

We need to talk. Just us.

Ridge calls me less than thirty seconds later.

"Why the cloak and dagger?" His voice is flat.