Chapter 2 - THE MEANING OF OCTOBER EIGHTEENTH|
The boutique remained silent until Grant reached for my arm.
I stepped away before he could touch me.
“Don't.”
His hand dropped.
Savannah looked from him to me, her fingers tightening around the diamond ring.
“Would somebody please explain what is happening?”
Grant forced a smile.
“Nothing. Claire and I have some personal matters to discuss.”
“Personal matters?” I repeated. “That's an interesting description for what you've done.”
His expression hardened.
“Not here.”
“You seemed perfectly comfortable discussing your engagement here.”
Savannah's cheeks flushed.
“There's no reason to be cruel.”
I looked at her.
“Cruel would be pretending I didn't know you were sleeping with my husband while he was telling me he had late meetings.”
Grant lowered his voice.
“Claire, stop.”
I turned toward him.
“Do you remember October eighteenth?”
He swallowed.
Of course he remembered.
Three days earlier, I had sat in attorney Daniel Brooks's office and signed the final documents authorizing an emergency court application. The hearing concerned the financial records of Ashford Development Group, the company Grant and I had built together.
For fourteen years, I had been more than his wife.
I had been the person who kept the business alive when its first major project nearly collapsed. I had negotiated with banks, rescued failing contracts, and personally guaranteed loans when Grant couldn't convince anyone to trust his plans.
My name was on the original incorporation documents.
My inheritance had funded the first office.
And my shares gave me controlling ownership.
Grant had become the public face of the company. He loved the interviews, the expensive suits, the magazine photographs, and the way people stood when he entered a room.
I had let him enjoy the attention because I believed we were building something together.
Then I discovered transfers from our development accounts to a company that did not appear in any legitimate project records.
The company was called Cole Strategic Consulting.
Savannah's maiden name was Cole.
I had found the first payment while reviewing quarterly expenses. At first, I assumed it was a vendor with an unfortunate coincidence of names.
Then I found six more.
Then eleven.
The total exceeded two million dollars.
When I asked Grant about the transfers, he said they were related to a private acquisition. He promised to show me the paperwork later.
He never did.
Instead, he changed the passwords to several company accounts.
That was when I stopped asking questions.
Daniel's investigation uncovered more than suspicious payments. It found evidence that my electronic signature had been attached to documents I had never approved.
The October eighteenth hearing was about preserving records and preventing further transfers while an independent forensic accountant examined the books.
Grant knew the date because the court had already sent notice to his legal team.
He also knew that if the judge granted our request, the company's finances would no longer be under his exclusive control.
Savannah touched his sleeve.
“Grant, what is she talking about?”
He stared at me.
“You filed something?”
I smiled without warmth.
“You should ask your attorney.”
His face changed again.
Savannah stepped between us.
“What did you file?”
Grant finally looked at her.
“Not now.”
But it was already too late.
She had heard enough to understand that the date she had chosen was not just inconvenient.
It was dangerous.
I placed the baby booties back on the display table.
“I hope you enjoy planning your wedding,” I said. “Just make sure your fiancé remembers to attend his court hearing.”
Then I walked out.
May you like
Behind me, Savannah said his name.
And Grant didn't answer.
