“It’s a car.”
“No,” Calvin replied. “It’s what ambition looks like.”
I nearly laughed.
The front door opened before we reached the steps.
Cassandra swept outside wearing a white designer pantsuit and oversized sunglasses despite the fading evening light. She embraced Calvin, then looked me up and down.
“So,” she said. “You wore that suit.”
“I did.”
“I thought Calvin told you to find something less depressing.”
“This one fits.”
She tilted her head.
“I suppose engineers don’t understand presentation.”
Cassandra leaned closer.
“Charles is already here. Please don’t corner him and explain satellites.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
Her smile became sweeter.
“Stay in the background tonight. You’re much prettier when you’re quiet.”
Calvin chuckled.
I walked past both of them.
Inside, the house looked like a magazine spread. Crystal chandeliers reflected across polished floors. Fresh orchids covered side tables. Waiters moved between guests carrying imported wine and silver trays.
Everything shimmered.
Almost everything in the room had been purchased with borrowed money backed by assets Cassandra had quietly drained.
The flowers alone probably cost more than some retired teacher received in a month.
Gregory found me near the bar. He held a cup of black coffee with both hands.
“You survived the entrance?”
“Barely.”
He glanced toward the windows.
“The Lamborghini is leased.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You know?”
“The payments are in the records.”
Gregory looked at my jacket.
“You brought the documents.”
“Yes.”
His face tightened.
“Dana admitted she approved two transfers. She claims Cassandra told her the money would be returned within ninety days.”
“There were four transfers.”
“I know that now.”
“Did Dana authorize the others?”
“She says she doesn’t remember.”
The answer carried enough pain to tell me he did not believe her.
Before we could continue, conversations across the house faded.
Frank and Linda descended the grand staircase. Linda wore diamonds around her neck and wrists. Frank smiled for the guests, but I could see the exhaustion beneath his expression now that I knew what his retirement statements contained.
Charles Hargrove walked beside them.
He was nearly seventy and wore a dark suit without a visible designer label. Unlike Cassandra, he did not need to announce importance. The room adjusted itself around him.
Cassandra hurried across the marble floor.
“Charles, I’m so glad you came.”
Introductions followed. Glasses rose. Guests applauded.
Calvin stood taller than I had seen him stand in months.
His sister was finally entertaining someone whose opinion mattered.
Hargrove smiled politely, but his eyes remained watchful. He studied the room, the people, and Cassandra’s exaggerated warmth with the expression of someone evaluating risk.
Dinner was announced.
Gold name cards marked every seat. Calvin sat beside Cassandra near the center of the table.
My card had been placed near the kitchen entrance.
I pulled out the chair.
One leg wobbled.
No one noticed.
Inside my jacket was a flash drive containing every document. An hour earlier, I had sent Hargrove the same files electronically.
I would not need to chase him through the party or explain anything loudly.
Numbers could wait quietly until the right person opened them.
Dinner progressed through four courses. Conversation revolved around Cassandra’s newest development, her future investors, and the lifestyle her success supposedly made possible.
No one asked about my work.
Halfway through the main course, Cassandra stood and tapped her champagne glass with a fork.
“I would like to make a toast.”
The room quieted.
“To our wonderful parents. Forty years together.”
Everyone applauded.
“You taught us what love, loyalty, and success look like.”