The ballroom doors opened.
Tessa Monroe walked inside carrying a leather portfolio.
Two members of her forensic accounting team followed.
Grant’s face twisted.
“Tessa?”
She had represented me during the final stage of the divorce.
Tessa nodded politely.
“Grant.”
Sloane looked between us.
“What is happening?”
Tessa placed a stack of documents on the gift table.
“We filed a petition yesterday to reopen Rebecca’s divorce settlement based on evidence of intentional financial misrepresentation.”
Richard went completely still.
Grant’s face drained.
“What evidence?”
“The Lakeshore property, for one.”
Grant said nothing.
Tessa continued.
“The consulting
entities used to divert executive distributions. The offshore investment account omitted from your sworn disclosure. And several hundred thousand dollars in Whitmore Development funds routed into Ms. Bennett’s boutique.”
Sloane snapped her head toward Grant.
“You said those payments were legitimate.”
Richard’s voice boomed across the room.
“What payments?”
Grant turned toward his father.
“Dad, I can explain.”
“How much?”
Nobody answered.
Richard stepped closer.
“How much company money did you give her?”
Sloane raised both hands.
“That money was for branding work.”
Tessa opened a folder.
“Then your company should be able to produce deliverables.”
Sloane froze.
“We have invoices.”
“You have invoices,” Tessa agreed. “What you don’t appear to have is the work.”
Richard looked at his son.
Grant looked at the floor.
And suddenly the baby wasn’t the only secret in the room.
Grant had hidden marital assets.
Richard had allowed company money to cover his son’s
private lifestyle.
Sloane’s boutique had benefited from questionable transfers.
And now all of it was tied together by documents.
Sloane turned on me.
“This is because you’re jealous.”
I almost laughed.
“Of what?”
“Of me. Of us. Of this baby.”
She pointed toward her stomach.
“You couldn’t have what I have.”
For years, those words might have destroyed me.
That afternoon, they barely touched me.
I walked toward her.
“No, Sloane. You were my best friend while I spent years believing my body was the reason my marriage was failing.”
Her eyes flickered.
“You sat beside me in fertility clinics.”
She looked away.
“You brought me food after procedures.”
“Rebecca—”
“You watched Grant blame me for not giving him children, even though he was the one who could never have them.”
Grant stiffened.
I continued.
“And then you slept with him.”
Nobody in the room moved.
