man was shouting behind the double frosted-glass doors of the main conference room, his tone hysterical. Darla recognized the voice at once; it was Daniel, losing his composure in front of his own board.
Evan stepped through the entrance foyer, his footfalls silent on the thick carpet leading to the conference room. He pushed open the wooden doors and walked directly into the center of the spacious room.
The shouting ceased instantly. A dozen men and women seated around the mahogany table turned their heads in unison. Daniel Whitmore stood at the far end of the room, his tie undone and his face flushed purple.
His hands were planted flat on the polished table, trembling slightly against the surface as he breathed heavily. Standing behind him was a nervous young lawyer clutching a thick leather briefcase full of unsigned documents.
When Daniel’s eyes moved past Evan and landed on Darla
