Chapter 7: Fractured Alliances
The silence in the suite grew heavy, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning unit overhead. Mei-Ling stared at Saffron, searching her face for any sign of hesitation or deceit, but found only an unyielding wall of resolve.
Clara appeared in the doorway behind the security guards, looking breathless as she pushed past them into the room. She took in the scene—David scrambling to his feet, Mei-Ling standing stiffly by the coffee table, and Saffron blocking the door.
"Mei, stop," Clara said, stepping between Mei-Ling and the table. She looked exhausted, the perfection of her white dress looking slightly rumpled from the evening's chaos. "Threatening her with security and lawsuits isn't going to make the files disappear. If the FBI already has copies, bringing the police into this hotel will only create a public scandal that we can't spin."
Mei-Ling glared at Clara as if her oldest friend had just slapped her across the face. "Whose side are you on, Clara? First you hold me back downstairs like some kind of guard dog, and now you're telling me to back down in front of a thief?"
"I'm on the side of self-preservation," Clara snapped back, her voice rising in frustration. "If you push Saffron into a corner, she has nothing left to lose. But if we sit down and talk like civilized human beings, maybe we can figure out how to manage the fallout before Victor has to step in and clean up the mess."
David, who had finally managed to stuff his papers back into his briefcase, wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Clara's right, Mei-Ling. If Victor gets involved, this stops being a board dispute and turns into a corporate bloodbath. People will go to prison, and the foundation will be liquidated."
Mei-Ling looked from David to Clara, her jaw clenching as she processed the grim reality of their situation. Her gaze finally settled back on Saffron. The aggressive posture she had maintained all evening slowly gave way to a cold, calculating stillness.
"Manage the fallout," Mei-Ling repeated quietly, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. She walked over to the armchair by the window, sitting down with slow, deliberate movements as she smoothed the fabric of her dark blue dress. "Fine. Let's talk about managing the fallout. What do you want, Saffron? Money? A quiet exit package? A glowing recommendation for your next job?"
Saffron didn't move from her spot by the door. She looked down at Mei-Ling with a mixture of pity and contempt. "I don't want your money, Mei. I want the scholarship funds returned to the students they were stolen from. Every last dollar."
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Mei-Ling let out a sharp, incredulous breath. "You are completely out of your mind. Those funds were reallocated to cover emergency operational deficits during the pandemic. They weren't stolen; they were borrowed."
"Borrowed without authorization, without board approval, and routed through private accounts," Saffron countered. "Call it whatever helps you sleep at night, Mei. But the federal investigators will call it wire fraud."
