Chapter 4 - The Architect's Confession
The silence inside the executive suite was heavy, thick with the scent of wet wool and impending disaster.
Grant took a step back, leaning against the doorframe for support. "Claire... that money was an investment. Rosewood was a diversification play. I was going to bring it to the board next quarter—"
"Save it for the deposition, Grant," Maya interrupted, snapping the folder shut. "Judge Harrison has already signed an interim freeze order on all personal assets held by Grant Bennett, pending a full forensic audit of Bennett Crest Development. You have twenty-four hours to vacate the primary residence on Habersham Road. Claire has exclusive possession of the marital home."
"Vacate my own house?" Grant shouted, his voice cracking again. "My grandfather built that estate!"
"And your wife paid off the two-million-dollar tax lien your grandfather left behind when he died," Maya noted without looking up from her notes. "The deed is in both your names, but the operational maintenance has been paid exclusively through Claire’s trust distributions. Pack a suitcase, Grant. If you set foot on the property after five o'clock tomorrow evening, the Fulton County Sheriff will be waiting."
Grant looked at me, his eyes pleading now, a pathetic shadow of the man who had stood beside Sloane while she called me barren.
"Claire, please," he said, taking a tentative step toward the desk. "We can talk about this. Sloane... Sloane lied to me. She played me! She knew about the company, she knew about the Bennett family name... I was an idiot, okay? I admit it. But Marcus—Marcus betrayed both of us! He was my friend!"
"Marcus didn't betray me, Grant," I said calmly. "Marcus was an employee of Bennett Crest. You were my husband."
Before Grant could respond, my office phone rang.
The sharp, digital tone cut through the tension. I pressed the speakerphone button.
"Claire?" a man's voice came through the line, strained and hurried.
Grant froze. He recognized the voice instantly. It was Marcus Vance.
"Marcus," I said into the speaker. "You're on with me, Maya, Grant, and his attorney, Richard Sterling."
There was a long pause on the other end. Then Marcus let out a bitter, weary sigh. "Grant, if you're listening, you need to know the truth. Sloane didn't just sleep with me in Savannah. She’s been seeing me for nearly two years. Long before you ever set up that ridiculous dinner in Midtown to introduce her as your 'protégée.'"
Grant let out a strangled, choked noise. "Two years? You son of a bitch!"
"Shut up, Grant!" Marcus snapped through the phone. "You wanted an ego boost! You wanted a young, pretty girl to parade around while you blamed Claire for everything that was missing in your miserable, hollow life! But Sloane was drowning in credit card debt when you met her. She needed money. And you were so desperate to feel like a patriarch that you handed her company credit cards without even checking the statements!"
"Why are you calling, Marcus?" Maya asked, keeping the conversation on track.
"Because Sloane showed up at my apartment twenty minutes ago," Marcus said, his voice laced with disgust. "She was screaming, hysterical. She told me the gig was up, that Claire brought the medical records and the bank files to the shower. She told me that if I didn't marry her and sign the paternity papers immediately, she would tell the district attorney that I helped Grant forge the subcontracting invoices for Rosewood Holdings."
Grant lunged toward the desk, slamming both palms down on the wood. "She's lying! I never told Marcus about Rosewood!"
"She's not lying about the invoices, Grant," Marcus said coldly. "Because I didn't sign them. You forged my architectural stamp on those site inspection documents. I went down to the county records office three weeks ago when Claire’s investigator first approached me. I saw my signature on eight different draw requests for Rosewood. You forged my name to pull that cash out of the bank."
Richard Sterling turned on his heel, looking at Grant with utter exasperation. "Grant, do not speak. Do not make a sound. We are leaving right now."
"I gave my full sworn deposition to Maya this morning, Grant," Marcus added. "I turned over the original CAD drawings, my travel logs, and the text messages Sloane sent me detailing how you planned to offer Claire a five-hundred-thousand-dollar nuisance settlement once the baby was born. I’m cooperating with the bank’s fraud unit."
The line went dead.
Grant stood there, breathing heavily, his hands pressed against the edge of the desk. The arrogance that had sustained him for nine years, the entitlement of the Bennett name, had been stripped away in less than three hours.
May you like
"You had this all planned," Grant whispered, staring at me with something resembling awe and terror. "You knew for weeks."
"I knew the day you stopped coming home for dinner, Grant," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I just waited until you were arrogant enough to invite me to your celebration. Now, get out of my office."
