Chương 4
“Why?”
“Because Daniel came to me eighteen months ago asking for funding.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“He asked you?”
Grant nodded.
“And I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because his numbers didn’t make sense.”
He placed the document down.
“He told me he was going to find another investor.”
I stared at the pages.
The timeline shifted.
The story became less simple.
Daniel had not randomly entered Grant’s world.
He had been there before I knew.
And whatever had happened between them had started long before the night at Harbor Glass.
“Grant.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
For the first time since I met him, he hesitated.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
And suddenly I understood something.
The man who promised me truth was carrying a secret of his own.
He did not answer immediately.
That bothered me more than if he had denied it.
People who were innocent usually rushed toward the empty space where accusations lived.
People who were hiding something often measured their words first.
Grant closed the folder and placed both hands on top of it.
“My relationship with Daniel started before you knew about any of this.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
He looked at the window behind me.
“I know.”
The honesty almost made me angry.
I wanted him to defend himself.
I wanted something simple.
A villain.
A victim.
A clean line separating the people who deserved blame from the people who did not.
But life rarely offered that.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure what role Daniel played.”
“You were willing to marry me while withholding that?”
“Yes.”
The direct answer surprised me.
Grant did not soften it.
He did not decorate it.
That made it harder to fight.
“That is a terrible decision.”
“Yes.”
“You agree?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“Most people would argue.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“Because being right about why I made a mistake does not make the mistake disappear.”
For a moment, I had nothing to say.
That was becoming a problem with Grant.
He kept refusing to behave the way I expected.
Daniel would have explained.
He would have created a story where his choices were understandable.
Grant simply admitted when something was wrong and sat with the consequences.
It was unfamiliar.
Not comforting.
Just unfamiliar.
“Tell me everything,” I said.
Grant nodded once.
“Eighteen months ago, Daniel approached Hale Urban looking for investment.”
“Why?”
“He had an idea for a consulting platform connected to commercial development.”
“The company he later created?”
“Yes.”
“And you rejected him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the projections were inflated.”
I looked down at the proposal.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“What did you suspect?”
“That he was desperate.”
The word stayed between us.
“Desperate people do dangerous things.”
I looked at him.
“Like what?”
Grant leaned back.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
I did not like that answer.
Not because it sounded false.
Because it sounded incomplete.
There was a difference.
“Did Serena know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
That was the first time I saw something close to frustration on his face.
“Serena and I were separated privately before the divorce filing.”
“Privately?”
“We had not announced it.”
“Why?”
“Because my family has never been good at handling weakness.”
I almost smiled.
“Your family sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
The answer came so quickly that I laughed despite myself.
Grant looked surprised.
Then he looked away.
It was a small moment.
Almost nothing.
But it reminded me that before he became the man standing in front of me, he was still a person who had grown up around people who measured everything by appearance.
“Serena knew I was planning changes inside the company,” he continued.
“Changes involving the board?”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel was part of her plan?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you think he was.”
“I think Daniel was useful to someone.”
I picked up the proposal again.
The paper felt heavier than it should have.
“Why keep this from me after we got married?”
“Because I needed to confirm whether you were connected.”
I looked up.
The room became colder.
“You thought I was involved?”
“I thought it was possible.”
I stared at him.
“After everything Daniel did to me, you thought I helped him?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“I thought he may have used you.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
“Is it?”
Grant went quiet.
I hated that I understood the difference.
Because I had spent my entire career looking at fraud cases where innocent people became useful because someone knew how to use their trust.
That did not make it feel better when the person sitting across from me was questioning whether I was one of them.
“What changed your mind?”
He looked at the folder.
“You.”
“That’s vague.”
“You brought me evidence that could hurt your own position.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“If you were protecting Daniel, you would have hidden this.”
I looked at the document.
The old proposal.
The first step of a story I did not understand yet.
“I’m not protecting him.”
“I know.”
The certainty in his voice was strange.
“You sound very sure.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because when you called him, you didn’t ask if he was going to save you.”
I remembered the conversation.
The way Daniel had sounded.
Lost.
Afraid.
“You asked him why he hurt you.”
Grant looked at me.
“People who are still trying to protect someone usually ask different questions.”
I looked away.
I did not want him to be right about me.
Not yet.
That evening, Rachel joined us with new information.
She entered the conference room carrying a thin folder instead of her laptop.
That alone made Grant sit up straighter.
“You found something.”
Rachel placed the folder down.
“I found a problem.”
“That is usually worse,” Grant said.
“It is.”
She opened the folder.
May you like
“Daniel was not only moving money from Hale Urban.”
I looked at the documents.
