The other was a div*rce he’d already signed.
He’d assembled fourteen executives, two lawyers, and our CFO to watch him take my marriage and my company in a single meeting.
I asked him one quiet question — who had guaranteed his twenty-four-million-dollar credit facility with Piedmont Union Bank — and he laughed and told me I wouldn’t understand the documents.
So I checked my watch and gave him two minutes to put it all back.
He called security.
At the door, with a guard’s hand near my elbow, I turned around and told him the only thing left to say.
« You should call your bank. Because in two minutes, Grant, you’re going to learn whose money you’ve been spending. »
The doors slammed.
My phone lit up with a message from a number Grant had never seen.
Authorization required. Proceed?
