Chapter 10 - THE SECRET I FINALLY TOLD HIMBy Monday morning, the atelier had enough accessible cash to cover payroll.
Barely.
The early payments from retailers helped.
Our independent bank advanced a small short-term facility against confirmed receivables.
And after Nadia presented proof that our original payments had reached Mercer Treasury Services, Northline released part of the reserve that had been restricted during its internal review.
The money didn't erase the damage.
It didn't solve the missing transfers.
But when Friday's delayed payroll finally reached every employee, I sat alone in my office and cried.
Not because I had won.
Because the people who trusted me hadn't paid the price for my marriage.
The investigation into SB Capital moved quickly.
Nadia retained a forensic accountant, Simone Keller, who had spent twenty years untangling corporate financial disputes.
Simone was careful about conclusions.
She didn't call something fraud because it looked suspicious.
She followed documents.
She verified dates.
She asked questions that made executives uncomfortable.
By Tuesday afternoon, she had identified three more payments from Mercer-controlled accounts to SB Capital.
The transfers had been described as strategic consulting expenses.
Some involved legitimate consulting work.
Others had no supporting invoices.
One memo referred to an anticipated acquisition of Elena Vale Atelier at a substantially reduced valuation.
I stared at the report.
"Oliver wasn't just trying to take my company."
Simone nodded.
"At minimum, the records suggest he expected to benefit financially from an acquisition. We don't yet know the full extent."
"Does Rebecca know?"
"Her company received part of the funds. We need more documents to establish her role."
I thought of the sapphire around Rebecca's throat.
The way she smiled while offering me a fraction of my company's value.
She had wanted the necklace.
But perhaps the necklace had never been the most valuable prize.
At four o'clock, Nadia called.
"Elena, Grant wants a meeting."
"No."
"He says he has information concerning Oliver."
"Then he can send it to our attorney."
"He did. But he also requested to speak with you personally."
I looked at the calendar.
My next prenatal appointment was in two days.
I had barely slept.
My nausea was getting worse.
I didn't have the energy for another conversation about Grant's regrets.
"Tell him I'm busy."
Nadia was quiet for a moment.
"That's your choice."
Then she added, "But you may want to hear what he's offering. It concerns the shareholder agreement."
I sighed.
"Fine. Twenty minutes. Here at the studio."
Grant arrived at five.
He looked different.
Not physically.
His suit was still immaculate.
His hair was still perfectly styled.
But the man who entered my office carried himself with a heaviness I hadn't seen before.
He looked at the chair.
"May I sit?"
The question surprised me.
"Yes."
He placed a folder on the desk.
"I've authorized Mercer Ventures to support the independent audit and waive any objection to your seeking emergency relief concerning the Northline contract."
I opened the folder.
There was also a signed commitment that his investment vehicle would not support any attempt to replace my management during the dispute.
No additional shares.
No new obligations.
No condition requiring me to return home.
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because your company should never have been used as leverage."
I studied the documents.
"Did Nadia review these?"
"She received copies this morning."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
Grant looked almost startled.
Then he said, "Oliver has been placed on administrative leave."
"Good."
"Rebecca's advisory role has been suspended pending the investigation."
My stomach tightened.
"Suspended?"
"Yes."
"And personally?"
He looked at me.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you still seeing her?"
Silence.
It was exhausting how much silence one marriage could hold.
Grant lowered his eyes.
"I met her yesterday."
My heart sank.
"Of course you did."
"To ask about the transfers."
"At dinner?"
"No. At her attorney's office."
I waited.
"She denied knowing Oliver was redirecting funds."
"Do you believe her?"
"I don't know."
I looked down.
"You're still protecting her."
"I'm trying not to accuse someone without evidence."
"That's not what you did when my own company was accused of being financially unstable."
He flinched.
"You're right."
I hadn't expected him to agree.
Grant leaned forward.
"Elena, I keep replaying our anniversary."
I said nothing.
"I remember the table. The candles. The way you looked at me."
I felt tears threatening.
"I kept telling myself you would calm down. That I'd explain, and we'd move on."
I looked away.
"But you didn't move on," he said.
"No."
"And now I don't know how to reach you."
I rested a hand against my stomach beneath the desk.
A wave of dizziness washed over me.
I tried to focus.
Grant noticed.
"Elena?"
"I'm fine."
"You look pale."
"I haven't slept much."
He stood.
"Have you eaten?"
"Grant—"
"When did you last eat?"
"Please don't."
He stopped.
I hated that my voice sounded fragile.
"I don't need you to start caring about my meals because you're frightened of losing me."
He slowly sat back down.
"That's fair."
I looked at him.
He was trying.
Too late, perhaps.
But trying.
Then another wave of nausea hit me.
I stood abruptly.
The room swayed.
"Elena!"
Grant caught the chair as I stumbled.
Maya rushed in from the hallway.
"What happened?"
"I'm fine," I insisted.
But I wasn't.
Maya saw my face and understood.
"Sit down. I'll get water and a snack."
Grant looked between us.
"What is going on?"
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The moment I had imagined a hundred times.
Except there was no anniversary cake.
No candles.
No celebration.
Just my husband standing beside a desk filled with divorce paperwork and corporate investigation reports.
"Elena," he said softly. "Please tell me."
I looked at him.
For a moment, I considered lying.
Then I thought about the child who would one day ask questions.
About the father whose choices had broken our marriage but who still had responsibilities that mattered.
I took a breath.
"I'm pregnant."
Grant stopped moving.
The room became silent.
His mouth opened slightly.
Then closed.
"What?"
"I'm pregnant."
He stared at me.
"With..."
He couldn't finish.
"Your child, Grant."
His face went completely white.
"How long?"
"Almost seven weeks."
He looked toward the door.
Then at Maya.
Then back at me.
"You knew on our anniversary?"
I nodded.
Tears filled my eyes.
"I was going to tell you that night."
Grant staggered backward until his hand touched the desk.
"The cake," he whispered.
I froze.
"What?"
"When I went into the kitchen the next morning, there was a cake."
My throat closed.
"It said..."
He couldn't finish.
I nodded.
"Happy anniversary, Daddy."
Grant covered his face.
For a long moment, he made no sound.
Then his shoulders began to shake.
I'd never seen my husband cry like that.
He lowered his hands.
"Elena, I didn't know."
"I know."
"If I'd known—"
"Don't."
He stopped.
I shook my head.
"I don't want you to tell me you would have chosen me if you'd known I was carrying your child."
He stared at me.
"I wanted you to choose me when I was simply your wife."
His face crumpled.
"I know."
He moved closer.
"Can I..."
He looked at my stomach.
Then at me.
"Can I be part of this?"
I couldn't answer immediately.
Finally, I said, "You can be this baby's father. But that doesn't mean we're going to stay married."
He nodded slowly.
Tears slipped down his cheeks.
"I understand."
I wasn't certain he did.
But at least he'd heard me.
Then my phone vibrated.
A new message.
Rebecca.
I hadn't given her my new number.
I opened it.
There were only two sentences.
May you like
Congratulations on your little miracle, Elena.
Now that Grant knows, we need to discuss what happens to the baby.
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