“You called federal investigators?”
“I didn’t.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Who did?”
A woman’s voice came from behind him.
“I did.”
Brittany.
Michael turned.
She was standing beside the shattered champagne glass.
Tears had streaked through her makeup.
And for the first time, she wasn’t looking at me with arrogance.
She was looking at Michael with hatred.
“Brittany,” he warned.
She reached into her gold evening bag.
Then pulled out a small black flash drive.
Michael’s face drained of color.
“What is that?”
She laughed once.
A terrible sound.
“You know exactly what it is.”
Everything I thought I understood changed again.
Brittany looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I said nothing.
“The affair was real,” she continued.
Those words still hurt.
Even then.
Even with everything else happening.
“I’m not going to insult you by pretending it wasn’t.”
Michael moved toward her.
She stepped back.
“But Northstar wasn’t mine.”
Whispers exploded around the ballroom.
Brittany held up the flash drive.
“He used my information to create it.”
“You signed the documents,” Michael snapped.
“No.
Your assistant copied my electronic signature from my promotion agreement.”
“That’s insane.”
“I found the files three weeks ago.”
Michael stared at her.
She continued.
“And then I found ten other companies.”
His jaw tightened.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I found the accounts, Michael.”
He stopped breathing.
“The Cayman transfers.
Singapore.
Luxembourg.”
Someone near the board tables stood abruptly.
Another director whispered something urgently into his phone.
Brittany was crying openly now.
“You were going to put all of it on me.”
Michael shook his head.
“She’s lying.”
“I found the draft complaint.”
That silenced him.
Brittany looked at me.
“He had already written the internal report he planned to file after the merger.
It said I created Northstar and stole company money using our relationship to manipulate him.”
I felt sick.
“He was going to blame you for forty-seven million dollars?”
“Forty-nine now.”
She looked at Michael.
“He was going to destroy me.”
Michael’s voice dropped.
“You came to me.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted the promotion.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted the hotels.”
Brittany flinched.
“Yes.”
“You wanted everything I gave you.”
She wiped her cheek.
“And then I learned the price.”
I stared at her.
“The photographs?”
Her eyes met mine.
“Michael told me to send them.”
The ballroom seemed to disappear.
“What?”
“He needed you angry.”
Michael shouted, “Stop talking.”
Brittany did not.
“He knew the trust clause.
Ryan told him exactly how it worked.
If you publicly accused an employee using private company information, especially if the accusation turned out to involve fabricated expense records, Michael could argue you’d intentionally caused severe reputational damage.”
I looked toward Ryan.
His expression had finally broken.
Brittany continued.
“The photographs were supposed to make you lose control.”
Suddenly every cruel message made sense.
You’re cold.
Enjoy the dress while you can.
Tonight will be the last time he pretends.
Not random cruelty.
Provocation.
“You were helping him trap me,” I said.
Brittany’s face crumpled.
“At first.”
The words landed like stones.
“I thought he was leaving you.
I thought the company stuff was lawyers and rich-people politics that had nothing to do with me.”
