Grant brought the guarantee home that night.
He placed it beside Elise’s dinner plate.
“Romantic,” she said.
He smiled. “You married finance.”
“No. Finance married me.”
He laughed.
For a moment, they looked like themselves.
That was the dangerous part.
A bad marriage did not become bad in every room at once.
Grant poured wine.
“The facility is bridge financing. We close the acquisition, we pay it down.”
“What acquisition?”
He stopped pouring.
“The Nevada distributor.”
“We passed on Nevada.”
“We reconsidered.”
“We?”
“Operations.”
“Without finance?”
Grant set the bottle down harder than necessary.
“Elise, not every decision needs a committee.”
“No. Just the ones that can attach two million dollars to my name.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“There is no risk.”
“Then you sign personally.”
“I did.”
She knew that was true.
It was in the packet.
His guarantee sat behind hers.
That made the structure look fair.
Elise read every page again.
Still no Exhibit C.
Still no acquisition agreement.
Still no explanation for Meridian.
Grant watched her.
“You don’t trust me?”
She looked at him.
That was the question people asked when they wanted trust to replace documentation.
“I’m reading.”
His jaw worked.
Finally, Elise picked up the pen.
Grant relaxed.
She signed.
Not because she trusted him.
Because refusing would tell him she had started looking.
She wanted him to continue behaving normally.
It was the only way to see the whole shape of what he was doing.
Grant gathered the papers.
“Thank you.”
Like she had done him a favor.
At 1:04 a.m., after he fell asleep, Elise opened the bank portal.
The Meridian wire was gone from pending.
Approved.
$49,200 sent.
Sloane’s credentials.
Elise opened the audit log.
The approval had occurred at 8:42 p.m.
During dinner.
Sloane was not at the office.
Elise checked the company’s authentication records.
The approval came from Grant’s home IP address.
Her house.
She stared at the screen.
There were only two possibilities.
Sloane had been in the house.
Or someone had used her credentials from the house.
Neither was good.
Elise saved the log.
Then she checked previous Meridian transfers.
Two had been approved from hotel networks used during Grant’s business trips.
One from a private airport lounge.
All under Sloane’s credentials.
She opened a spreadsheet.
Date.
Amount.
Location.
Grant’s calendar.
Sloane’s calendar.
Perfume.
Loan.
She did not label the last column affair.
She labeled it correlation.
At breakfast, Grant was cheerful.
“Bank confirmed. We’re good.”
“So quickly?”
“You signed.”
“That was all they needed?”
“Pretty much.”
Elise buttered toast.
“What does Meridian Advisory do?”
Grant’s hand stopped.
Then resumed.
“Who?”
“Meridian.”
“A consultant.”
“For what?”
“Market strategy.”
“Which market?”
“Elise.”
“What?”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Interrogating.”
She smiled.
“I asked three questions.”
He pushed back from the table.
“I have a board prep.”
“Of course.”
He left without finishing his coffee.
At ten, Elise opened the state business registry.
Meridian Advisory LLC had been formed four months earlier.
The registered agent was a commercial service.
No owner listed.
No useful address.
She searched the address on the first invoice.
A mailbox store.
Then Sloane knocked.
“I have the originals for the loan file.”
Elise looked up.
Sloane held a sealed envelope.
Her hands were trembling.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You brought it.”
“Grant told me not to open it.”
Elise took the envelope.
Inside was the missing Exhibit C.
One page.
A schedule of pledged assets.
Her personal brokerage account was listed first.
