Chapter 8

Upstairs, a crowd of shareholders was waiting for Connor. He drew a deep breath, braced himself, and pushed open the car door. The moment the reporters spotted him stepping out of the car, they surged toward him like a frenzied mob. In the past, Connor's dealings with the press had only taken place at Searle Group's carefully orchestrated press conferences. He would hand-select some pre-approved questions, and the reporters would sit politely in their seats, firing off one scripted question after another. But now, something entirely different was taking place. For the first time, a faint twinge of fear settled in his chest. Suddenly, his mind flashed to Hannah, who had stood in a similar storm just days earlier, and a sharp pang of bitterness twisted inside him. The reporters didn't give him a second to collect himself. Their questions came fast and sharp, each slicing through the air like a blade. "Mr. Searle, the funds in Searle Group's accounts have disappeared overnight. Does