“There’s something in your drink—the black girl whispered to the billionaire. The man’s hair stood on end when he found out what was there

I’ve been going through the list Maya helped piece together. From the flash drive. Margo’s brow furrowed.

And? It’s worse than I imagined. He said. It wasn’t just Vanessa and Miles.

Two of my longest. Serving advisors Harvey Cross and Evelyn Sloan have signed documents authorizing overseas disbursements through a dummy shell. Ugh.

Margo placed the mugs down and sat across from him. I always felt Evelyn was too polite to be real. She helped me set up the trust in 2003.

I asked her to oversee the college scholarship fund. She used it to launder money. Margo’s lips tightened.

So? What now? I confront them, he said. One by one. Alone? Number.

He looked up. Not anymore. The next morning, the sun rose shyly behind a curtain of silver clouds.

Cyrus pulled into the parking lot of Bennett Capital Group. The building stood tall, sterile. Glass Clidan Empire he had built with his hands.

Now hiding the rot within its walls. Inside, the boardroom was already occupied when he arrived. Twelve individuals sat waiting, murmuring, sipping coffee from their polished tumblers.

Harvey Cross sat at the far end, his eyes shadowed with quiet calculation. Evelyn Sloan sat poised beside him, wearing her signature silk scarf and that same glassy smile. Cyrus entered and placed a leather binder on the table without a word.

The room fell into silence. Thank you for coming, he began. Today, I’m not here as your CEO.

I’m here as the man you nearly destroyed. Evelyn straightened slightly. Cyrus what is this about? He opened the binder and slowly slid two copies of signed authorizations down the table.

Harvey’s fingers twitched. These are your signatures, Cyrus said, his voice calm but steady. Approving the rerouting of four dollars, eight million from our education fund, to a shell in the Cayman Islands.

The same account Miles DeVerue used to launder Vanessa’s cut. A few board members exchanged nervous glances. Harvey leaned back.

That’s a serious accusation. I’m not accusing, Cyrus said, eyes locked on him. I’m stating a fact.

He pressed a button on a small device in his pocket. A speaker clicked to life, and Vanessa’s voice filled the room. We’ll use Evelyn for the authorizations.

She owes me. Harvey too. They won’t ask questions.

Cyrus is too distracted chasing philanthropy and press interviews. The room went still. Cyrus paused the audio.

Effective immediately, he continued. You are both relieved of your positions. Legal counsel will follow up regarding criminal proceedings.

Evelyn opened her mouth, but Cyrus raised a hand. Don’t, he said. Not a single word.

I trusted you. I defended you. His voice cracked slightly.

But he didn’t look away. You didn’t just betray me. You betrayed the children we promised to help.

The veterans we swore to honor. The entire community that built this company with their faith. Security quietly entered and escorted both Evelyn and Harvey out.

Neither resisted. After the door shut, the room remained frozen. Cyrus turned to the remaining members.

Anyone else who’s hiding something, this is your only chance. Come clean now. Nobody spoke.

Cyrus nodded. Then let’s get back to work. But this time, we build with honesty.

That afternoon, as Cyrus left the building, he saw Maya sitting outside near the fountain, reading a paperback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. She looked up as he approached. How’d it go? She asked.

They’re gone. She nodded once and closed the book. You did it.

No, he said. We did. Maya stood, hesitating.

Do you ever regret building all this? Cyrus looked at the headquarters behind him. Then at her. Number I regret not watching closer.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Then Maya said, I think we should do something. Like what? Take that education, fund the real one, and visit the schools it’s supposed to help.

See the kids. Hear their stories. Cyrus smiled.

You’re becoming a real troublemaker, you know that? She grinned. Guess I’ve had a good teacher. The next week, they traveled.

Not in private jets or black limousines, but in a rented SUV, stopping at small schools in towns like Pine Bluff, Arkansas, and Gallup, New Mexico. Places with cracked basketball courts and tiny libraries run by one person. Maya spoke to students, asked questions, listened closely.

And Cyrus? He watched. Quietly. Deeply.

As if learning the shape of the world all over again. One day, in a school in rural Mississippi, a boy named Andre looked at Cyrus with wide eyes. Are you really the man on the news? The one with the glass tower in LA? Cyrus crouched beside him.

That’s me. Andre leaned closer. You came all the way here? I came to see you.

The boy looked down at his old, worn-out sneakers. Nobody ever does. Cyrus glanced at Maya, who nodded.

Well, he said, you’re somebody. And this won’t be the last time. Later, on the road back, Maya asked him, do you think the world’s changing? I think we’re changing, he said.

And sometimes, that’s enough to move the world a little. That night, back at the estate, Cyrus received a call. It was Agent Jensen again.

Mr. Bennett, we’ve identified the final piece. Someone else was feeding Vanessa Intel from inside your charity’s advisory circle. Cyrus’s jaw tightened.

Who? A poser. Lucille Denver. She’s not on payroll, but she chaired the health outreach program last year.

Quiet woman. Background in data analytics. Cyrus’s mind flashed.

Lucille always helpful. Always behind the scenes. Rarely spoke.

Never questioned. We’ll need your permission to run a deeper audit. And possibly, a quiet confrontation.

Off record, for now. Cyrus looked out the window into the night. Maya was in the backyard, sitting under the big oak tree, head tilted to the stars…