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“Richard, please,” Nathan stammered, standing too quickly. “I can explain. This is a misunderstanding. Mara is angry because of a personal issue. She’s hysterical. She fabricated those ledgers.”
“The ledgers were verified by an independent forensic accounting firm,” Richard said coldly.
He gestured toward the glass doors.
Outside stood four corporate security officers and two men in dark suits holding federal badges.
“You are terminated, effective immediately. Your equity is forfeit. Your access is revoked. And I strongly advise you not to say another word without a criminal defense attorney present.”
Nathan’s knees nearly gave out.
He grabbed the edge of the table to keep himself upright.
In less than a minute, the golden boy of Pierce Capital lost his title, his fortune, his reputation, and the future he believed he was too clever to lose.
Across town, inside the sunlit dining room of the Ashford Country Club, Eleanor Pierce was experiencing her own collapse.
She sat at a white-linen table surrounded by five wealthy, judgmental friends. She was laughing too loudly, holding court, most likely telling some venomous version of how she had “handled” her unstable daughter-in-law at Audrey’s wedding.
Then she snapped her fingers at the manager and demanded the check for the four-thousand-dollar champagne lunch she had just hosted.
The manager approached slowly.
He was not carrying the usual leather check folder.
His face was tight with discomfort.
He leaned down and lowered his voice.
“Mrs. Pierce, I apologize, but your primary club account has been frozen. Your platinum card was declined.”
Eleanor’s smile froze.
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