Page 107 of The Rival's Obsession
“What is this?” he asks, eyes scanning the table, then the folders, then me.
Corrine straightens in her seat too quickly, her expression cracking just enough. She didn’t expect him. Didn’t want him here.
Which makes it all the more satisfying.
“Well, since you’re here,” I say, voice sharp, “I’ll spare you the spin. I pay for the kid’s college. Directly. Through the university’s finance office. He never sees a dollar of firm money in his account. Whatever he does to pay for the rest of his life—his rent, his groceries, hell, his dignity—isn’t mine to control and certainly not yours to judge.”
Grant picks up one of the folders, flipping through slowly, deliberately. I watch his brow furrow. Then he closes it.
“Corrine,” he says quietly, “we talked about this.”
And something in me fractures.
I turn to him, sharp. “You knew about this?”
The hurt escapes before I can choke it down.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer.
“Grant,” Corrine interrupts, tone dipped in false sympathy, “it’s understandable you’d be fooled by Dante’s lies too. We all have been.”
“Bullshit,” I snap. “You’ve been trying to shove me out of this chair since the day you took the CFO’s seat.”
She lets out a dry laugh. “So paranoid.”
“You didn’t even wait until his wife was told,” I hiss, “that her husband had a heart attack at his fucking desk before you started making calls about his replacement.”
“Enough,” Grant cuts in, voice tight. “This isn’t helping anyone.”
Of course.
Of fucking course.
There it is again—him stepping between us. Not to defend me. Never to defend me. Just to calm the storm. To keep Corrine clean. Polished. Untouched.
While I stand here with blood in my mouth.
Corrine can’t fucking help herself.
“And while we’re on the subject of questionable expenditures,” she says, voice silky with malice, “I have reason to believe Dante has recently hired a prostitute—Eve Sterling—and has been parading her around this office for the last week under the guise of a consultant. I suspect sexually inappropriate behavior within these walls. Including in his own office.”
The floor drops out beneath me and I see red.
Not just anger—but a pulsing, blinding fury that settles beneath my skin like fire.
“You want to put me on the chopping block,” I say, my voice low and dangerous, “then do it with actual fucking proof. Show me the deposit trail. Show me the payment receipts.”
I glance around the table, at the board members shifting in their seats. Faces unreadable. Predictably silent.
But I don’t look at Grant. I can’t.
Because if he had anything to do with dragging Eve into this, with making her collateral damage in this stupid war?—
“I’m warning you,” I continue, forcing every syllable through clenched teeth, “you leave innocent people out of this.”
Corrine doesn’t flinch. Even that fake-ass smile remains plastered on her manipulative face like she knows she’s won.
I smooth my jacket. Breathe through the rage before I say something I’ll regret.
