Chapter 8

The summons came the next day.

Jodi was at home, on the phone with a doctor's office, trying to schedule her first prenatal appointment under an assumed name. A brief, hopeful moment of planning for a future that was hers alone.

Then Grant Fletcher called, his voice stripped of all professional courtesy. "Top floor conference room. Now." He hung up before she could reply.

A knot of ice formed in her stomach. Something was wrong.

She walked into the conference room and the air was thick with hostility. Armand was at the head of the table, his face a thundercloud. To his right sat Mitch Kellogg, the head of Mergers and Acquisitions, his face flushed with rage. And next to him, looking small and terrified, was Selah Pruitt.

The moment Jodi stepped inside, Mitch slammed a thick document down on the polished mahogany table.

"Explain this, Holden," he roared, his voice shaking.

It was the final proposal for the Wexler acquisition. Several key financial figures were circled in thick, red ink.

"Because of the fraudulent data you provided," Mitch spat, "our valuation of Wexler was off by thirty percent. Thirty percent! Cade Wexler's team called an hour ago. They've killed the deal. And they're accusing Taylor Corp of felony commercial fraud."

Jodi stared at the numbers, her mind reeling. They were wrong. Terribly wrong. These weren't the figures she had finalized.

Armand's voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as a shard of glass. "The data came from the USB drive you gave to Selah."

On cue, Selah let out a small, choked sob. "I-I don't understand," she stammered, directing her wide, tear-filled eyes at Jodi. "I just did what you told me to. You said it was the final version. I sent it straight to Mitch's office... I never would have..." She trailed off, her performance of a betrayed innocent flawless.

It all clicked into place. The USB drive. The handover. Selah's hatred.

Jodi looked at Armand, her heart sinking. "The data was changed. That is not the version I gave her."

A look of profound, weary disgust crossed Armand's face. "Changed? You expect me to believe that a new assistant, on her second day, managed to hack into a complex financial model and alter it without leaving a trace?"

Selah added her finishing touch, her voice a meek whisper. "She... she seemed very upset when she gave it to me. She said some... strange things. I thought she was just sad about leaving."

The implication was clear, and poisonous. Jodi had sabotaged the deal out of spite.

"Armand, this is a disaster!" Mitch fumed, needing a scapegoat. "This could cost us billions, not to mention the SEC investigation!"

"I can prove it," Jodi said, her voice desperate. "My server logs, the file history on my laptop-"

"Your laptop?" Armand cut her off with a bitter laugh. "After you declared your intention to leave? After you publicly humiliated me? You think anything on your personal computer is admissible evidence?"

He already believed it. He saw her not as the woman who had shared his bed for five years, but as a vindictive shrew, scorned and lashing out.

Her heart didn't just break. It turned to dust. He would never believe her.

Armand stood up and walked around the table until he was standing directly in front of her. The sheer force of his presence was suffocating. He reached out and gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his cold, dead eyes.

"I underestimated you, Jodi," he said, his voice a low, terrifying calm. "I truly did."

He let her go, his touch leaving a trail of ice on her skin.

"You have three days," he said. "Three days to fix this. To get Cade Wexler back to the negotiating table."

He paused, letting the impossible demand sink in.

"If you fail," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "I will personally see to it that you are charged with corporate espionage and commercial fraud. And I will spend whatever it takes to make sure you are convicted. You won't just lose your severance, Jodi. You will go to prison."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and deliberately wiped the fingers that had touched her, as if he were wiping away something unclean.

He turned and walked to the door, stopping with his hand on the handle.

"And until this is resolved," he said without looking back, "you are not to leave New York City."