Dressed for Revenge

The dinner progressed, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a steak knife. The waiter returned, clearing away my ruined salad with apologetic eyes and replacing it with the main courses. Seared scallops, filet mignon, truffle risotto—a feast paid for by stolen money.

"So, Daniel," asked Marcus, one of the primary investors sitting near the head of the table. Marcus was a stern, gray-haired man who didn't tolerate fools. "When can we expect the Q3 report for Meridian? We’ve pumped another two million into the medical imaging project, and my board is getting restless for a prototype."

Daniel puffed out his chest, waving his fork dismissively. "Marcus, please. You know innovation takes time. The prototype is in the final stages of beta testing. We just hit a minor snag with the supply chain for the micro-lenses, but we're on track."

"It’s truly groundbreaking work," Vivian chimed in smoothly, slicing her steak. "Daniel is revolutionizing the industry. You’re all very lucky to be on the ground floor."

I took a slow sip of my water. "Which micro-lenses, Daniel?"

The table went quiet again. Daniel stopped chewing. He looked at me, his eyes narrowing in warning. I wasn't supposed to speak unless spoken to, especially not about business.

"Excuse me?" he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"The micro-lenses," I repeated, my tone light, almost conversational. "Are they the ones being sourced from Apex Dynamics? Or the ones from the new supplier in Shenzhen?"

Daniel blinked, clearly taken aback. He didn't know the answer because there were no micro-lenses. "That’s highly technical, Claire. Let's not bore our guests with the minutiae."

"I don't mind," Marcus said, leaning forward, his interest suddenly piqued. "Actually, I'd love to hear more about the supply chain. We've been asking for a vendor list for weeks."

"Well," Vivian interrupted, her voice sharp. "Daniel handles the macro-level operations. Claire, dear, why don't you go to the restroom and clean yourself up? You smell like vinegar."

I didn't move. I reached down to my side, where my oversized leather tote bag sat on the floor.

"I was just curious," I said, pulling a thick, manila folder from the bag and placing it on the table next to my plate. "Because according to the vendor invoices, Meridian hasn't purchased a single piece of hardware in fourteen months."

Daniel let out a forced, breathy laugh. "Claire, what is this? What are you talking about?" He looked at the investors, tapping his temple as if to say, Crazy wife, right?

"I'm talking about the 2.4 million dollars that was supposed to go toward research and development in Q2," I said, opening the folder. I pulled out a stack of neatly printed, highlighted spreadsheets. "It’s funny, because the money didn't go to Apex Dynamics. It went to an LLC called 'Vanguard Holdings'."

Vivian’s fork clattered against her porcelain plate. The sound was deafening in the sudden silence. All the color drained from her perfectly contoured face.

"Claire, stop this nonsense immediately," Vivian hissed, her refined mask slipping to reveal the venom underneath. "You are embarrassing yourself. And you are ruining my birthday."

"Oh, Vivian, the party is just getting started," I smiled, sliding the first spreadsheet across the polished wood table toward Marcus.

Marcus picked it up, his brow furrowing as he scanned the highlighted rows. "Daniel... what is Vanguard Holdings?"

Daniel was sweating now. A bead of perspiration rolled down his temple. "It's... it's a consulting firm. A specialized consulting firm for the imaging software."

"It's a shell company," I corrected, pulling out another document. It was a copy of the articles of incorporation I had pulled from a state database. "Registered in Delaware. And the sole managing director is Vivian Hayes."

The air left the room. The other five investors stopped eating. They put their silverware down and stared at Daniel, who was suddenly looking very small in his custom suit.

"This is absurd!" Vivian practically shrieked, half-standing from her chair. "She forged these! She's mentally unwell! Daniel, get her out of here right now!"

Daniel reached across the table, his hand darting out to grab the papers from Marcus. "Give me that. It's fake. She's been having a breakdown—"

Marcus pulled the paper out of Daniel's reach, his eyes cold and hard as flint. "Sit down, Daniel."