Chapter 3: My Sister in the Ballroom
The accountant pointed toward the rear of the ballroom.
My younger sister, Celeste, stood beside the exit.
“Celeste?” I lowered the microphone.
“Come here.”
She didn’t move.
Desmond found his voice first.
“This acquisition announcement is over.
Security, clear the stage.”
“No,” Reginald said.
“Security answers to my office tonight.”
“To your former office,” Desmond replied.
“The board hasn’t approved your interference in an internal investigation.”
I held up the document.
“The second signature belongs to Celeste Ashcombe.”
A murmur moved through the room.
Celeste finally walked forward, clutching her silver handbag with both hands.
“Tell me it was copied,” I said.
“Tell me you never signed this.”
Celeste stopped below the stage.
“I signed it.”
My fingers tightened around the paper.
“Why?”
“Because the payments were legitimate when I approved them.”
The accountant opened his tablet.
“Three million eight hundred thousand dollars went to I.A.
Strategic Consulting.
The company has no employees, no office, and no recorded clients beyond Corvina.”
Isolde stepped back.
“I don’t own that company.”
“Your initials are I.A.,” I said.
“Isolde Avery.”
“Half the country shares those initials.”
Desmond climbed the stage steps.
“This is exactly why inexperienced investors shouldn’t conduct public interrogations.
Wren, give me the folder.”
I pulled it away.
“You told me I was decorative ten minutes ago.
Now you want what’s in my hands.”
His smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’ve embarrassed yourself enough.
Go home, and we can discuss our marriage privately.”
“Our marriage will be discussed by attorneys.”
The room went still.
Isolde touched the earrings again.
“Desmond, you said she would never find out.”
He turned so sharply that she recoiled.
“Find out what?” I asked.
“That you were planning to leave her,” Isolde said quickly.
“Nothing about company funds.”
Celeste reached the stage.
“Wren, stop.
You don’t understand what you’re opening.”
“Then explain it.”
She looked at Desmond before answering.
That glance hurt more than the document.
“You authorized those transfers,” she said.
“I did no such thing.”
Celeste pulled a phone from her handbag.
“I have emails from your private account.
You instructed me to countersign every payment.”
Desmond folded his arms.
“Perhaps Ardent’s founder isn’t the rescuer everyone thinks she is.”
Reginald stepped between us.
“Those messages must be authenticated.”
“They will be,” Celeste said.
“And when they are, Wren’s acquisition may be tied to the same financial misconduct she’s accusing Desmond of committing.”
I stared at the sender’s address on her screen.
It was mine.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Celeste, look at me.”
Her eyes filled, but her voice remained steady.
“You always said family loyalty mattered.
Tonight, we’ll learn whether that rule applied to you.”
The ballroom doors opened.
A man in a gray suit entered carrying a legal envelope.
Desmond smiled.
May you like
“My attorney,” he said.
“And he has an emergency petition to suspend Wren’s voting rights.”
