Chapter 5 - Unraveling the books
By Thursday afternoon, the corporate restructuring of Rowan-Cole was moving at a pace that made the old Whitmore administration look like a retirement home. The federal investigators had finished hauling out four boxes of shredded documents and digital hard drives from Grant’s old office, leaving behind a sterile, empty room that smelled faintly of expensive floor wax and stale cigar smoke.
I sat at my new desk—a massive walnut executive table that had once belonged to Grant, now cleared of his ego-driven memorabilia, family portraits with women who weren't me, and self-congratulatory industry awards. In their place sat architectural blueprints for our upcoming sustainable lakefront community in Cornelius, three cups of black coffee, and a laptop displaying live updates from our forensic accountants.
The door opened without a knock. David walked in, holding a thick sheaf of printed bank statements bound with a rubber band.
"You look like you haven't slept in forty-eight hours," he observed, tossing the bundle onto the corner of my desk.
"I slept for four hours on Tuesday night," I corrected him without looking up from my monitor. "That counts as a vacation in the real estate world."
David pulled up a chair opposite my desk, straddling it backward and resting his arms on the wooden backrest. "The federal prosecutors reached out an hour ago. Grant’s defense attorney tried to file for a bail reduction, claiming that the offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands were legitimate consulting retainers and that Sabrina Cole was a certified corporate advisor."
I finally looked up, a dry, humorless chuckle escaping my lips. "A certified corporate advisor? Sabrina’s professional background consists of running an upscale boutique yoga studio that went bankrupt during the pandemic."
"Exactly what the federal judge told his defense counsel," David said, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "The bail request was denied. Grant is going to be sitting in a Mecklenburg County holding cell until trial, which means he’s going to have plenty of time to contemplate the difference between actual asset ownership and corporate identity theft."
"And Sabrina?"
"Her bank accounts are completely locked down. Her family in Atlanta refused to post bail or pay her legal fees after they found out she was knee-deep in wire fraud. She’s currently crashing on the couch of a college friend in Plaza Midwood while waiting for her arraignment next Tuesday."
I leaned back in my leather chair, letting out a long breath. For fourteen years, I had carried the weight of Grant’s professional incompetence, smoothing over his mistakes, covering for his financial shortfalls, and listening to him lecture me about how business was 'a man’s game where you have to be ruthless.'
Now, the ruthless man was wearing an orange jumpsuit, and I was sitting in the corner office running his empire.
"You know," I said softly, looking out the glass window at the cranes working on our downtown mixed-use project across the street, "part of me still can't believe he was stupid enough to bring her to the villa on Monday night."
"Narcissism is a terminal disease, Claire," David replied, his tone turning reflective. "Grant didn't just want to cheat on you; he needed you to witness his supposed dominance. He needed to stand in your house—which he honestly believed he had manipulated away from you—and watch you crumble so he could feel like a king."
"Instead, he walked straight into our trap."
"Our trap," David agreed, nodding slowly. "And speaking of traps, we have a board dinner tonight with the municipal zoning commissioners to finalize the permits for the waterfront expansion project. Are you ready to face the city council as the sole head of Rowan-Cole?"
May you like
I stood up, smoothed down the lapels of my charcoal blazer, and picked up my tablet.
"David," I said with a sharp, confident smile, "for fourteen years, I was the one who wrote the speeches Grant recited to those commissioners. Facing them by myself isn't a challenge. It’s a relief."
