“This is fake,” he whispered.
Fiona’s expression remained calm.
“It was filed with the state at 7:42 this morning. Notice has also been delivered to the transfer agent, the company’s lenders, and every member of the board.”
Dominic looked at me.
For the first time since I had known him, he seemed unable to decide which version of himself to perform.
The offended husband.
The powerful executive.
The frightened thief.
His phone began ringing.
Genevieve.
He answered on speaker.
“Dominic, what did she do?” Genevieve shouted. “The bank suspended our credit line. Three directors resigned. Apex canceled the expansion guarantee.”
Dominic stared at me as if I had changed species.
I set down my coffee.
“Apex didn’t cancel anything. Apex withdrew.”
Genevieve went quiet.
The silence on the line lasted three full seconds.
I continued.
“I am Apex Capital.”
The phone slipped slightly in Dominic’s hand.
Genevieve recovered first.
“You can’t destroy a company because your marriage failed.”
“I’m not destroying it. I’m protecting it from officers who committed fraud.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I understand that nine hundred thousand dollars was described as laboratory equipment and used to purchase a villa. I understand that six hundred eighty thousand dollars was routed through a consulting agreement no independent director approved. I also understand that the ring on your hand cost one hundred twelve thousand dollars.”
Dominic looked down.
Genevieve’s voice sharpened.
“That ring was personal.”
“It was purchased from an account funded by Helios.”
“Dominic told me he reimbursed it.”
“He didn’t.”
Dominic lunged toward the bank statements, but Fiona placed a second document over them.
“Temporary restraining order,” she said. “Neither of you may access company funds, servers, records, or premises while the forensic audit proceeds.”
His eyes moved across the first page.
“You planned this,” he hissed.
“No,” I said. “You planned it. I merely read the receipts.”
He came around the island.
For a moment, I saw the old Dominic—the man who believed physical proximity could restore authority. He stopped less than a foot from me.
“You hid half a billion dollars from your husband.”
“I protected an investment from a man who believed marriage entitled him to everything I owned.”
“I built that company.”
“You operated it.”
“I gave it fifteen years of my life.”
“And I gave it the capital, patents, guarantees, and ownership structure that kept it alive.”
His jaw tightened.
“You let me believe it was mine.”
“I let you believe your work mattered.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t. I understand that now.”
He looked at the suitcases.
“You’re throwing me out?”
“I packed the things you purchased personally. The rest will be inventoried.”
“This is my home.”
“The penthouse is owned by the Sinclair Family Trust.”
His face changed again.
He had never asked whose name appeared on the deed.
He had only asked whether the building had a private elevator.
Fiona stepped between us.
“You should leave, Dominic.”
He ignored her.
“Beatrice, listen to me. Genevieve misunderstood. The proposal was symbolic.”
I stared at him.
“Symbolic of what?”
“The merger. The future of the company. She needed reassurance.”