The reporters' eyes widened.
The video was grainy, but the details were clear enough.
It showed a conference room, apparently recorded from a hidden camera. Leaves partially obscured the frame, making it look as though the camera had been concealed inside a hanging flowerpot.
But the people were unmistakable.
Dorian Blackwood stood in the center of the room, a cold smirk on his face.
Mrs. Lowe was in front of him, screaming and accusing him of killing his grandfather. Around them, the board members watched in stunned silence.
Then Dorian said something that made several reporters lean closer to their phones.
He was ordering the security men to remove her. And when they hesitated, he offered them money.
A collective gasp went through the room.
"Is that Blackwood?"
"Where did you get that?"
"Wait—play it again!"
More phones came out.
Another reporter received the video.
Then another.
Within seconds, it was spreading through the room faster than anyone could follow.
