Chapter 3

"So, you're the walking polygraph?"

Asher Sterling leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, studying me.

He was younger than I expected, probably twenty-eight or nine, with a sharp brow and a clean jawline. However, the dark circles under his eyes were so heavy that even concealer couldn't fully hide them.

His office was massive, but half of the three-wall bookshelves were empty, leaving only dust outlines where books used to be.

Sold off.

The Sterling Group was in even worse shape than I had imagined.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I remained standing.

"Test me first."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't have called me if you weren't desperate, but you still don't trust me. That's fine; nobody does at first. Say a few truths, then a few lies. See for yourself."

Asher stared at me for three seconds before slowly uncrossing his arms.

"Fine. I had steak for dinner last night."

Silence. No hiccup.

"Truth," I said.

He continued, "Sterling Group's current financial health is perfectly fine. There are no fraudulent accounts."

*Hiccup.*

A muffled sound escaped from deep within his throat.

His composure cracked slightly, and his hand instinctively went to his throat.

"That's impossible. I never hiccup."

"You do in front of me."

He tried again. "Meeting you today was a last-minute decision."

No hiccup.

"Truth," I said, finally sitting down across from him. "Mr. Sterling, you can test me a hundred times. In my presence, there are only two options: truth or lie."

A long silence followed.

His fingers tapped against the edge of the desk, as if he were weighing the odds.

"Assuming I believe you. How do you plan to help me?"

"How many partners do you have?"

"Seven."

"Get them all into one room. I'll ask them questions one by one. Whoever lies will hiccup. They'll expose themselves on the spot."

"It's that simple?"

"It's that simple."

He picked up the desk phone. "Toby, notify the seven partners. Financial review in the main conference room at 10:00 AM."

He hung up, then looked at me, hesitating slightly. "What's your price?"

"Let's see the results first. You can make an offer when you're satisfied."

At exactly 10:00 AM, the seven partners filed into the conference room.

Once seated, some looked at me with curiosity, others with disdain or suspicion.

A bald man sitting on the far left stared at me for a few seconds before turning to Asher. "Asher, who is this?"

"Our external risk-control consultant, Chloe Vance."

The bald man scoffed.

I opened the financial summary and flipped to the first page.

"Everyone, I only have a few simple questions. Please answer honestly. First: Over the past twelve months, has anyone in this room authorized off-book expenditures?"

The room went dead silent for a beat.

A tall man spoke first. "No."

No hiccup.

A woman with glasses followed. "No."

No hiccup.

Then it was the bald man's turn.

"No."

*Hiccup.*

It was a dull, heavy sound, like a fist hitting a drum.

The entire room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

The bald man rubbed his throat. "Sorry, swallowed some spit the wrong way."

I ignored him.

"Second question: Have you shared Sterling Group’s financial data with any external parties?"

"Of course not."

*Hiccup.*

This one was louder than the first.

The other six partners began exchanging uneasy glances.

I pressed on. "Are you familiar with an offshore shell company called Adler Holdings?"

The bald man—I glanced at his name tag, Marcus Brody—jerked backward in his chair, his lips parting, but no words came out.

He didn't dare speak.

Because he knew that if he denied it, his own body would betray him.

Asher took over, his voice cold as ice. "Marcus, you don't have to answer. But our legal team will be stepping in this afternoon."

Marcus scraped his chair back violently against the floor.

He stormed out of the conference room, slamming the door so hard the vibration traveled up through the soles of my shoes.

The remaining six partners stared at me in unison.

The weight of their gaze had shifted—they were no longer looking at an "external consultant." They were looking at some sort of terrifyingly precise machine.

I had seen that look before at the Harrison estate.

*Freak.* They didn't say it aloud, but the word was plastered all over their faces.

After the meeting adjourned, Asher kept me behind.

"Two minutes to catch a parasite."

The way he looked at me had changed as well. Before, he was testing me; now, he was evaluating me like a general calculating the blast radius of a new weapon.

"Chloe, Ethan Harrison used you for three years, yet he only cleared out five people. Why?"

"Because some people are smart enough to stay silent. They never tell direct lies in front of me; they only state indisputable facts. They hide behind the truth, and I can't touch them."

He frowned.

"I caught five people in the Harrison Group, but the sixth one... never discussed finances in my presence during those three years."

"Who?"

I didn't answer. The ink on my NDA wasn't even dry yet.

He didn't press me.

Suddenly, a frantic knock sounded on the door.

Toby, the assistant, rushed in, looking pale.

"Mr. Sterling, people from the Harrison Group are here. Julian Beck came in person, and he brought..."

"A behavioral analysis consultant," I finished the sentence for him.

Toby looked at me in surprise.

I stood up and adjusted my collar.

"Her name is Dr. Valerie Stone, Columbia Ph.D. in Criminal Psychology. She is the Harrison family's replacement for me."

Asher leaned forward slightly.

"How did you know she'd come here?"

"Because the Harrison family wants to block every single path left for me," I said, my voice flat as I looked toward the door. "She’s not here to collaborate. She's here to cut me off."

The door pushed open.

Julian Beck walked in first, followed by a woman in a sharp black blazer and skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a neat low ponytail, her face pale, with a picture-perfect smile.

When she saw me, her eyes widened slightly.

"Chloe? Oh, what a coincidence to see you here."

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