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"Records can be planted."
"Also true."
His gaze narrows. "Yet we're supposed to accept your interpretation."
I feel the familiar coldness settle over me, but before I can speak, Elena puts her hand lightly against my forearm. The gesture isn't restraint. It's a reminder that she doesn't need rescuing from an argument.
"Don't accept anything," she tells Santiago. "Verify it. I'll give you the raw records, access logs, corporate filings, and methodology. Have your own forensic accountants reconstruct everything I've done. If I'm wrong, they'll prove it."
Santiago wasn't expecting that.
Elena changes the display. "But when they reach the same conclusion, I'd suggest you pay particular attention to these."
Colombian transactions fill the screen. Santiago's expression changes immediately.
"What the fuck is that?"
"Money routed through companies operating in Colombian territory."
"Those aren't mine."
"I didn't say they were."
"You're implying it."
"No. You're hearing an accusation because you're already defensive."
His chair scrapes backward, and I stand immediately. Volkov does too.
Lorenzo slams his palm against the table. "Sit down."
Nobody listens.
"This is bullshit," Santiago snaps. "She walks into a Crown meeting with Greek-controlled evidence and suddenly Colombian companies are financing assassins?"
"Greek-controlled evidence?" I ask.
"You heard me."
"Careful."
"Or what?"
Volkov moves before I answer, positioning himself between the argument. "Sit down, Santiago."
Santiago turns toward him. "Stay out of it."
"Not possible anymore."
The temperature in the room drops several degrees.
Declan remains seated, watching us with an expression that reveals almost nothing. He's been unusually quiet since Elena began presenting the financial structure, and that silence has started bothering me.
Lorenzo steps forward. "Nobody is accusing Colombia."
Santiago gestures angrily toward the screen. "Then why are my territories up there?"
Elena answers before anyone else can. "Because so are theirs."
