The security scanner flashed red a second time.
Dominic stared at it as though the machine had made a personal mistake.
He pulled his badge away, wiped it against his tailored jacket, and pressed it to the reader again.
Red.
A low electronic tone sounded through Crestwood Holdings’ marble lobby.
The glass security gates remained locked.
Natalie stopped behind him, one hand still gripping the strap of the handbag purchased with company money.
“Try the other entrance,” she murmured.
Dominic ignored her.
He looked across the security desk and found me standing beside Raymond Cole, Crestwood’s head of corporate security.
The sealed compliance folder lay open beneath my hand.
For the first time that day, Dominic did not look amused.
“What did you do?” he asked.
I glanced at the scanner.
“Your access has been disabled.”
“You can’t disable me.
I’m chief operating officer.”
“Not anymore.”
His face changed slowly, disbelief hardening into anger.
Raymond stepped forward.
He was a broad-shouldered man in his fifties who had worked for my father since Crestwood occupied two rented rooms instead of forty-three floors in Midtown Manhattan.
“Mr.
Vance,” he said, “you are not authorized to pass the security line.”
Dominic laughed once, but no humor survived in the sound.
“This is a family disagreement, Ray.
Open the gate.”
“My instructions came from the board’s emergency committee and corporate counsel.”
Employees entering through the revolving doors began slowing down.
Some pretended to check their phones.
Others stood near the elevators, watching openly.
Dominic noticed every face.
Public embarrassment had always frightened him more than private guilt.
He lowered his voice.
“Audrey, whatever performance you’re staging, end it now.”
“This isn’t a performance.”
I turned the first page in the folder.
It contained a chart connecting twenty-six vendors to Dominic, Victoria, or members of their extended family.
Some companies shared addresses.
Others used post office boxes.
Three had been incorporated within days of receiving Crestwood contracts.
Dominic could not read the details from where he stood, but he recognized the formatting.
Compliance reports had a distinctive blue border.
His eyes dropped to the folder and then returned to me.
“You had no right to investigate my department.”
“That department belongs to Crestwood.”
“I built the operating structure.”
“You built a way to send Crestwood’s money to people who shared your last name.”
Natalie took a small step backward.
Dominic heard the movement and turned toward her.
“Stay here.”
It sounded less like reassurance than an order.
The lobby elevator opened behind me.
Two members of corporate legal stepped out with the director of Human Resources.
Each carried a matching folder.
The lobby grew quieter.
Dominic’s attention moved from one folder to the next.
