Teresa Marchetti did not waste words.
She entered Elise’s office at eight the next morning, closed the door, and placed her handbag on the chair.
“How much?”
Elise looked at her.
Grant had inherited that habit from his mother.
Ask the question that forced everyone else to reveal how much they knew.
“How much what?”
Teresa’s eyes narrowed.
“Cash is down. The revolver is up. Grant says Nevada.”
“There is no Nevada.”
Teresa went still.
Elise turned her monitor.
She began with Meridian.
Not the affair.
Not the perfume.
Money first.
Six hundred twelve thousand three hundred dollars in transfers.
The ownership certification.
The investment account losses.
The loan facility.
Exhibit C.
Elise’s personal guarantee.
Teresa read without interrupting.
When she reached the audit logs showing Sloane’s credentials used from Grant’s home and travel networks, she removed her glasses.
“Does the assistant know?”
“Yes.”
“Is she involved?”
“Yes.”
Elise let that sit.
Then added, “Not in the way you mean.”
Teresa understood immediately.
Her mouth became a thin line.
“How long?”
“Six months.”
“And you waited?”
“I documented.”
Teresa looked at her.
“Six months.”
“I wanted the whole thing.”
“You could have come to me.”
“I am coming to you now.”
“I hold fifty-one percent.”
“I know exactly what you hold.”
The room went quiet.
Teresa had spent thirty years making everyone in the company remember that number.
Fifty-one.
Enough to control the board.
Enough to remove Grant.
Enough to make one phone call and freeze his authority before he reached the elevator.
Elise slid a flash drive across the desk.
Teresa did not touch it.
“What do you want?”
“I want the bank notified before Grant knows.”
“Done.”
“I want Meridian’s access to company funds blocked.”
“Done.”
“I want outside counsel to preserve the audit logs.”
“Done.”
“And I want Sloane protected from retaliation until she decides whether she’ll cooperate.”
Teresa’s expression changed.
“You’re protecting the woman sleeping with your husband?”
“I’m protecting evidence.”
“Same woman.”
“Different issue.”
Teresa almost smiled.
That frightened people more than when she yelled.
“What are you going to do about my son?”
Elise looked at the wedding ring on her hand.
“I haven’t decided.”
“That is not like you.”
“No.”
“Do you still love him?”
Elise did not answer.
Teresa stood.
“Finance meeting at ten.”
“Grant will be there?”
“He thinks he called it.”
That was very much like Teresa.
At nine forty-five, Sloane sent Elise a message.
He knows something is wrong.
Elise replied.
Do not discuss Meridian. Come to the meeting. Bring your phone.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then:
He told me not to attend.
Elise typed:
Attend.
At ten, Grant entered the conference room smiling.
He kissed Teresa’s cheek.
He touched Elise’s shoulder.
“Morning.”
Teresa sat at the head of the table.
Grant opened his laptop.
“I know everyone’s nervous about liquidity, but Nevada solves—”
“There is no Nevada,” Teresa said.
Grant stopped.
His eyes went to Elise.
She saw the exact moment he understood.
Not everything.
Enough.
“You went through my files.”
Elise folded her hands.
“Our files.”
His chair moved back.
“This is unbelievable.”
The conference-room door opened.
Sloane stepped inside.
Grant stared at her.
Then at the phone in her hand.
“Sloane,” he said carefully, “you need to leave.”
She did not move.
Teresa looked at her.
“Sit.”
Grant’s face changed.
“Sloane.”
This time, it was not an instruction.
It was a warning.
Sloane sat beside Elise.
Then she placed the engraved perfume bottle on the table.
