“But I will not protect a lie anymore.”
Preston stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Victoria, please. Come with me for five minutes.”
“For what? So you can tell me she forced your hand? So you can swear there’s an explanation? So you can remind me how much is at stake?”
His expression cracked.
“Everything is at stake,” he whispered.
“I know.”
For a second, I saw the man I had married standing underneath the man he had become. Not innocent. Not absolved. But frightened.
And that was what hurt most.
Sloane approached us, her red gown brushing the floor. “Preston, tell them this is ridiculous. Tell them you’re leaving her.”
He flinched.
Not enough for the room to miss.
Her confidence faltered. “Preston?”
Mason opened the leather folder Eleanor had handed him. “Perhaps we should all avoid further improvisation.”
He removed a document and placed it on the nearest table.
Preston stared at it as though it had risen from a grave.
“What is that?” Sloane demanded.
“A preliminary review,” Mason said. “Three weeks ago, Victoria requested an independent audit of Hale Development’s recent transfers.”
Sloane’s eyes moved to me. “You hired auditors?”
“Yes.”
“You were spying on him.”
“No,” I said. “I was verifying what my name was still being used to guarantee.”
A man at the front table muttered something under his breath. His wife elbowed him sharply.
Mason continued, “Several payments were routed through a consulting entity called Avery Strategic Partners.”
All eyes turned to Sloane.
Her face flushed. “That’s my firm. Preston hired me legitimately.”
“Did he?” Mason asked.
Preston said nothing.
Eleanor’s voice cut in, smooth and devastating. “Avery Strategic Partners was incorporated eleven months ago. It has no employees listed beyond Ms. Avery. No client history before Hale Development. Yet it received seven payments totaling four point six million dollars for advisory services connected to the Westbridge expansion.”
Sloane’s lips parted.