“What did you do?”

“I authorized my votes.”

He frowned.

“Your votes?”

Margaret closed the folder.

“The Hale family trust controls fifty-eight percent of the company’s voting rights.”

Grant looked at her as though she’d switched languages.

“Arthur controlled that trust.”

“Arthur did.”

Margaret glanced at me.

“Claire controls it now.”

The room became very quiet.

Grant looked at me.

Then at Margaret.

Then back at me.

“You told me you weren’t involved in operations.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you can’t do this.”

I picked up the place card from Table 24.

“Voting ownership isn’t operations, Grant.”

His mother stood.

“This is ridiculous. Claire, stop embarrassing your husband.”

I looked at Diane.

Less than an hour earlier, she had been laughing louder than anyone else.

“I’m not doing anything to him.”

Grant stepped toward me.

“Call another vote.”

Margaret shook her head.

“No.”

“Tomorrow morning, then.”

“No.”

“Margaret, don’t be stupid.”

That sentence cost him whatever sympathy remained in the room.

Margaret handed the folder to counsel.

“Your company credentials have been suspended. Security will arrange access to your office so you can collect personal belongings.”

Grant stared at me.

“You planned this.”

“Yes.”

It was the only answer I gave him.

Then His Phone Started Ringing

Grant’s brother came through the ballroom doors.

He looked confused.

“Grant, what’s happening with the cars?”

Grant turned.

“What cars?”

“Outside.”

Diane hurried toward the windows.

Several vehicles normally used by Grant and his family were registered to entities I personally owned or controlled—not Grant.

He had known that once.

His family apparently hadn’t.

Two drivers were standing beside the black SUV Diane usually used.

Another vehicle Grant’s brother had driven to the gala was being collected as well.

Diane turned toward me.

“Claire, tell them to stop.”

I didn’t answer.

“Claire.”

She walked closer.

“My purse is in that car.”

“They’ll bring it to you.”

Her mouth opened.

Then closed.

Grant pulled out his phone.

He had seven missed calls.

“You took my car?”

“It’s mine.”

“I use it every day.”

“I know.”

“And the house?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

That finally frightened him.

“Claire. What about the house?”

The Virginia estate where Grant and I lived had belonged to my father.

It had passed to me.

Grant had never owned it.

“Your attorney can coordinate a time for you to collect your personal things.”

Diane gripped the back of a chair.

“Where is he supposed to sleep tonight?”

I looked at Grant.

He had spent the evening explaining who mattered.

I wasn’t interested in continuing that discussion.

“That’s something Grant can figure out.”

Behind me, the service door swung open.

A waiter stepped through carrying a tray.

I moved aside to let him pass.

My place card was still in my hand.

Table 24.

The seat Grant had chosen because he thought it showed everyone where I belonged.

I folded the card once and slipped it into my purse.

Then Margaret touched my arm.

“Claire, there’s something else Grant needs to see.”

She reopened the blue folder.

And this time, Vanessa stopped smiling.

The $2.8 Million Question Grant Couldn’t Answer

Vanessa stood so quickly that her chair scraped across the ballroom floor.

“Margaret, whatever you’re about to say should be discussed privately.”

Margaret looked at her.

“We offered that opportunity eight days ago.”

Vanessa’s face changed.

Grant turned toward her.

“Eight days ago?”

She didn’t answer.

Margaret removed a financial summary from the folder and placed it on the table.

“The review identified approximately $2.8 million in payments connected to VC Advisory Group.”

Grant’s jaw tightened.

“Those were legitimate consulting expenses.”

“Then tell us what services were provided.”

“Strategy. Market analysis. Expansion work.”

Margaret nodded toward Vanessa.

“And why was the company receiving those payments controlled by your vice president of strategy?”

A few people nearby whispered.

Vanessa stepped forward.

“That is not accurate.”

Margaret didn’t argue.

She simply turned one page.

Vanessa went pale.

The report was easy to understand.

VC Advisory had received company money.

Vanessa controlled VC Advisory.

Grant had approved the payments.

There were other expenses too: private flights, jewelry, and renovations to a Manhattan apartment Vanessa had been using.

Grant looked at me.

“You had people digging through my expenses?”

“Company expenses.”

“Same difference.”

Several board members heard him.

One lowered his eyes.

Vanessa reached for the report.

“These records could have been manipulated.”

Margaret pulled it away.

“Don’t touch it.”

Vanessa looked at Grant.

He was breathing harder now.

“Tell them,” she said.

Grant stared at her.

“Tell them what?”

“That those approvals were legitimate.”

“You told me the LLC was isolated.”

The words came out louder than he intended.

Vanessa froze.

So did Grant.

Someone at a nearby table actually set down his fork.

Grant looked around the ballroom.

Too late.

Margaret closed the folder.

“Thank you, Grant.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Vanessa backed away from him.

“You need to stop talking.”

He turned on her.

“You said there was no direct connection.”

“Grant.”

“You said it couldn’t be traced back to you.”

Now even Diane was silent.

I watched Vanessa’s expression change from fear to anger.

“You approved every payment.”

Grant stared at her.

“Because you told me—”