Before Gregory could even process what was happening, the audio recording began to play through the surround-sound speakers. The crystal-clear audio of his voice echoed off the walls: “Just process the second signature form… We need that hundred and fifty thousand dollars… to fund C-Lane Ventures for Chloe’s boutique.”
Gasps erupted around the room. Gregory’s mother dropped her glass of wine, shattering it against the hardwood floor. His senior partners stared at him with expressions of unadulterated disgust and shock.
Gregory’s face drained of all color. The glass slipped from his fingers, amber scotch splashing across his polished shoes. His knees buckled, and he dropped straight down onto the floor in front of fifty staring guests.
“Please…” Gregory choked out, reaching blindly toward me, tears streaming down his face. “Please, honey… I can explain. It was a mistake, a moment of weakness—”
I looked down at the man who had tried to destroy my life and steal my son’s future. My voice was calm, steady, and devoid of any emotion.
