“It could, depending on the records, authorizations, and the company’s governance arrangements.”
I nodded slowly.
For years, Vincent had insisted that his business and personal life were separate.
But he had used company resources, marital savings, and elaborate explanations to sustain a relationship he wanted to conceal.
And now the records were beginning to intersect.
I looked toward the window.
Then whispered:
“How much longer can he keep telling everyone a different story?”
Rebecca closed the folder.
“That depends on whether he starts telling the truth.”
I thought about Christmas Eve.
The white dress.
The woman in the hospital bed.
The baby growing inside me.
And the husband who still believed he could explain everything if only I would give him five minutes alone.
Then I said:
“I don’t think he knows how.”
