Chapter 4: The Bank

"I did not agree to be your secret weapon," I said in the elevator.

"You agreed to be my fiancée," Anson said. "That includes the bad days."

"Terms. Number one."

"Number one is that the engagement is public. This is public."

The doors opened on the thirty-first floor.

His staff stood along the glass wall of the conference room, nervous and quiet.

Six bankers sat at the long table with their jackets off.

The oldest one leaned back and smiled at me.

"So this is the little fiancée," he said. "Welcome, sweetheart. Anson tells us you did some bookkeeping."

"Accounting," I said.

"Of course, dear." He slid a bound report across the table. "Take a look. Maybe it'll teach you what a real debt looks like."

Somebody at the back of the room snickered.

Anson sat down beside me and said nothing.

He didn't help me. He didn't stop them.

I understood in that moment that he was testing whether I would run.

I opened the report.

I read it the way I read everything, slowly, with a pencil, from the back to the front.

The room waited.

Page nine. Page seven. Page two.

The pencil stopped.

"Mr. Rotherham's total debt is listed here as thirty-one million," I said.

"That's correct, sweetheart."

"It's wrong by four million."

The banker's smile stayed where it was, but it stopped moving.

"The Harlan warehouse loan is on page two under Rotherham Logistics," I said. "It's also on page nine under Rotherham Holdings."

"It's the same loan. Same lender, same amount, same date, same account number."

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