Chapter 6 - THE LAST DINNER BEFORE THANKSGIVING
Graham arrived at 7:04.
I had placed the scanned donor list on the kitchen island.
Beside it sat a copy of the security still.
He walked in.
Saw both.
Stopped.
“You printed the footage?”
“Nora did.”
His face tightened.
“Elise, I can explain.”
“Sit.”
He stared at me.
“Please.”
“No.”
I looked at the chair.
“Sit.”
For once, he did.
I stayed standing.
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long have you been using my job to help your career?”
“I haven’t.”
I slid the scanned seating chart toward him.
His handwriting stared up at both of us.
Potential AUM.
Priority.
Business owner.
“How long?”
He looked down.
“A few months.”
My stomach twisted.
“Months.”
“I was trying to build relationships.”
“With people you knew through me.”
“Some.”
“Did you contact them?”
“Not directly.”
“That means yes with extra steps.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“I researched them.”
“Using my materials.”
“Some of the names.”
“Did Richard know where they came from?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
Then he added, “Not exactly.”
There it was.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were supportive.”
I laughed quietly.
“You built an entire career strategy around a woman who does not exist.”
He looked up.
“What does that mean?”
“The Elise in your office stories. She loves hosting executives. She introduces clients. She gives you donor names. She plans networking dinners.”
“I never said it like that.”
“You never say anything exactly like anything.”
His eyes flashed.
“I did this for us.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Graham. You did it because you wanted partnership.”
“And you benefit from that.”
“Stop spending my benefit without asking me.”
He stood.
“You think I enjoy this pressure? Do you have any idea what it takes to compete at my firm?”
“I know what it took from me.”
He went quiet.
I pointed at the document.
“My job is investigating me because of you.”
“They’re investigating you?”
“Yes.”
His anger vanished.
For one second, I saw genuine fear.
“Elise, I’m sorry.”
It was the first apology.
Too late.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then call Richard.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Right now.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Call him and tell him I never gave permission for the museum visit, I never agreed to the January dinner, and Thanksgiving was your invitation.”
His face hardened again.
“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.”
“Correct.”
“You want me to destroy everything I’ve worked for the night before he sits at our table?”
“I want you to tell the truth.”
“You don’t understand how this business works.”
“Apparently it works by stealing your wife’s badge.”
“Stop saying stealing.”
“You took something that wasn’t yours without permission.”
He pushed both hands onto the island.
“If I call Richard tonight, partnership is over.”
I stared at him.
That was the first completely honest sentence he’d given me.
“Then don’t call.”
His head lifted.
Relief flickered across his face.
For half a second.
Then I continued.
“I will.”
His expression changed.
“Elise.”
I reached for my phone.
He grabbed my wrist.
Not hard.
But he grabbed it.
We both froze.
His eyes dropped to his hand.
Then he released me immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
I stepped back.
Something inside me shut.
“Leave.”
“Elise—”
“Get out.”
“I didn’t hurt you.”
“No.”
I picked up my phone.
“But you just reminded me how desperate you are.”
He moved toward the door.
Then turned.
“If you call him tonight, don’t expect me to come tomorrow.”
I met his eyes.
“Graham?”
“What?”
“You’re still coming.”
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow you’re going to sit at that table.”
May you like
I looked at the thirty-two place cards stacked beside the centerpiece.
“And you’re going to hear the truth with everybody else.”
