THE HEIRESS OF VALE HARBOR: REVENGE AT MIDNIGHT

Marcus Vance looked down at the small metal flash drive as if it were a venomous snake.

“What is this?” Marcus asked, looking up nervously between Adrian and me.

“That,” I replied smoothly, taking a seat at the empty chair beside Margaret Sloan,

“is a complete digital record of last night’s executive meeting in Suite 1402 of the Vale Harbor Hotel.”

Color drained entirely from Adrian’s face, leaving him looking ghastly under the harsh fluorescent boardroom lights.

“Elise… don’t,” Adrian whispered, his arrogant facade shattering into dust in a fraction of a second.

Celeste sprang up from her chair, her face contorted with sudden fury.

“This is absurd!” Celeste hissed, pointing an accusing finger at me.

“You’re bringing personal drama into a corporate boardroom! Mr. Vance, don’t listen to her—she’s just a bitter, unstable wife trying to sabotage her husband’s career!”

I turned my gaze slowly toward Celeste.

For a moment, I just studied her—the expensive crimson blazer, the polished manicure, the desperate panic hiding behind her professional veneer.

“Miss Bain,” I said calmly, “you are twenty-nine years old, earning a comfortable salary as MorganWell’s communications director.”

Celeste blinked, taken aback by my sudden pivot. “What does that have to do with—”

“It has to do with the fact that for the past three months, your personal apartment lease, your luxury car payments, and your boutique shopping sprees have all been billed directly to MorganWell’s corporate accounts under fraudulent maintenance codes,” I stated, looking across at Marcus Vance.

“Mr. Vance, if you open the forensic audit report in Margaret’s briefcase on page forty-two, you’ll find Miss Bain’s personal expenses itemized under fake contractor invoices.”

Marcus Vance’s hands trembled slightly as he grabbed the leather binder and flipped to page forty-two.

Within three seconds, his jaw dropped.

“My god,” Marcus whispered, staring at the columns of numbers. “Embezzlement of corporate reserve funds… This is an SEC violation.”

“It’s worse than that,” Margaret added smoothly, sliding another document across the table.

“Because MorganWell used forged signatures to conceal these transfers, every single executive officer who signed off on the Q2 financial statements is legally implicated in wire fraud.”

Richard Sterling, MorganWell’s general counsel, turned white as a sheet.

“Adrian,” Richard choked out, standing up abruptly from his chair. “You told us those funds were allocated for offshore market research!”

“It was a temporary bridge maneuver!” Adrian shouted desperately, lunging toward the table. “The Vale Harbor deal was supposed to cover all deficit gaps before the quarterly audit!”

“The Vale Harbor deal is dead,” I said quietly.

I stood up from my chair, buttoning my coat with deliberate slowness.