Chapter 6: The Visitor in the Morning
The morning sun cut sharp golden squares across the minimalist hardwood floor of the penthouse kitchen. Evelyn stood by the counter, wearing her dark brown satin button-down shirt, pouring hot water into a ceramic teapot. The events of the previous evening hung in the air like unburned smoke. Damon was already dressed in a charcoal-grey suit—having swapped his beige attire for a more authoritative look—reviewing digital documents on his tablet.
A sharp knock at the penthouse door broke the morning quiet. It wasn't the polite chime of a scheduled delivery, but a firm, rhythmic pounding that demanded attention.
Damon exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Evelyn before walking to the entryway. He pulled the door open to reveal Mrs. Shaw, the sales associate from the bridal boutique, standing in the hallway. Her sleek low bun was as immaculate as ever, but her beige pantsuit looked slightly rumpled, as if she had traveled through a storm to get here.
""Mr. Vance, I apologize for the early intrusion,"" Mrs. Shaw said, her voice dropping to a hurried whisper. She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, glancing down the hallway to ensure they were alone.
Evelyn walked out from the kitchen, holding her teacup. ""Mrs. Shaw? Is everything alright?""
""No, Mrs. Vance, it isn't,"" Mrs. Shaw replied, pulling a folded envelope from her leather briefcase. She placed it carefully on the entryway table. ""After you left the boutique yesterday, Mr. Mercer returned. He demanded access to the boutique’s sales ledger for the past twelve months. When I refused without corporate authorization, he made it clear that my position—and my pending relocation to the London branch—depended entirely on my compliance.""
Damon stepped closer, his dark messy hair catching the light as he leaned down to examine the envelope. ""Did you give him the ledger?""
""I gave him a decoy file containing archived inventory data from two years ago,"" Mrs. Shaw said, meeting Damon’s gaze with surprising resolve. ""I’ve worked in luxury retail for over a decade, Mr. Vance. I know when a man is auditing legitimate sales and when he’s searching for hidden transactional trails. He wasn't looking at dresses. He was looking at the payment methods used by high-net-worth clients who purchased custom gowns around the time your company went public.""
Evelyn set her teacup down, the porcelain clinking sharply against the wood. ""My early clients. The ones who funded my initial capsule collection.""
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""Precisely,"" Mrs. Shaw nodded. ""Mr. Mercer believes one of those original transactions links your corporate launch directly to an illicit asset transfer from his private equity firm. He’s building a narrative that you embezzled the seed money, Evelyn.""
Damon opened the envelope. Inside was a printed threat on corporate letterhead, demanding Evelyn’s voluntary resignation from her own board of directors within forty-eight hours, or face immediate public exposure.
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