My boss invited me to the most dangerous gala in New York because he wanted me to embarrass myself.

We didn't call the police. We didn't call the firm's legal team.

Within fifteen minutes, Larkin’s private black SUV was flying through the rain-slicked streets of Midnight Manhattan, breaking every traffic law toward the Financial District.

Larkin sat in the back seat beside me, his laptop open, furiously typing commands into the network portal while I dictated IP routing protocols over his shoulder.

"He's copying the offshore trust keys," I said, my fingers flying over my own tablet screen. "If he gets those keys, he can drain forty percent of your liquid reserves into an un-traceable account in Switzerland within ten minutes."

"He's selling us out to Julian Vance," Larkin growled, his face lit by the harsh blue glow of the laptop screen. "Julian has been trying to buy Thomas off for months. Thomas knew I was stripping his operational authority after tonight's stunt."

"He used the gala as a distraction," I realized. "He knew you'd be occupied at the Continental Hotel for at least four hours."

"He didn't count on you ending the party early," Larkin said, turning his head to look at me.

The SUV screeched to a halt in front of the forty-second-floor tower. The glass skyscraper rose into the dark, stormy sky like a jagged black needle. The building was empty, save for night security.

Larkin drew his firearm from his holster, checking the magazine with a sharp click.

"Stay in the car with the driver," Larkin ordered firm.

I reached into my clutch purse, pulled out a heavy titanium USB bypass drive I always carried with me, and held it up.

"He’s locked the master server room from the inside with an emergency fire override," I said coolly. "You need my bypass code to open that door without blowing the wall down and destroying the hard drives. I'm coming with you."

Larkin stared at me for two seconds, then let out a dark, breathless laugh. "You really are something else, Woods."

We rushed through the empty, silent lobby. The security guard at the desk started to stand up, but one look at Larkin’s face made the man sit right back down and look at the floor.

We took the private express elevator straight to the forty-second floor.

When the doors opened, the executive floor was dark, pitch-black save for the flickering red emergency lights. The air smelled faintly of ozone and expensive carpet.

We moved silently down the hallway toward the master server room at the end of the corridor.

Through the reinforced glass panel of the server room door, we could see Thomas. He was sweating profusely, frantically plugging external hard drives into the main mainframe terminal.

Larkin signaled for me to stay close behind him. He stepped in front of the keycard scanner.

"Penelope. Do it."

I stepped forward, inserted my titanium USB drive into the maintenance slot beneath the scanner, and entered a twelve-digit administrative override code I had memorized two years ago.

BEEP. BEEP. CLICK.

The heavy steel magnetic locks disengaged with a loud pneumatic hiss.

The door slid open.

Thomas whipped around, his face pale with terror, holding a silver revolver with a trembling hand.

"Stay back!" Thomas screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. "Stay back, Larkin! I swear to God I'll put a bullet in you!"

Larkin didn't even slow down. He stepped right into the server room, his own weapon held low at his side, his face a mask of terrifying calm.

"Put the gun down, Thomas," Larkin said quietly. "You're bad at business, and you're even worse at treason."

"You took everything from me!" Thomas shrieked, his eyes darting frantically between Larkin and me. "I was supposed to run this family! Dad promised me! Then you showed up with your suits and your legitimate corporate structures, making me feel like an idiot!"

"You are an idiot, Thomas," I said coldly, stepping into the light beside Larkin. "You’re copying an encrypted honeypot file. The real master ledger isn't even on that server."

Thomas blinked, his weapon wavering. "What?"

"I moved the primary ledgers to a cold-storage quantum drive six months ago," I said with a slow, pitying smile. "What you're downloading right now is three gigabytes of corrupted tax data that will alert the IRS to your personal bank accounts the moment you attempt to upload it."

Thomas looked at the progress bar on the screen: 99% Complete.