Chapter 11: Marin's Ledger

Marin's POV

I had planned to ruin Weston Cabot for four years.

Then I stood up for him in front of his own board without thinking about it.

That was the thing I couldn't stop thinking about, riding up in his elevator at eleven that night.

I had a folder in my bag.

It was my father's sale, every page of it.

I had read it so many times the staples had rusted.

It was the sale that had killed my father, and Harbor Lane's money had come from Cabot Capital.

That was the whole of what I knew.

It was why I had walked into his lobby with the Thorpe notes in my hand.

I had meant to take what I needed from his files, and then take him apart.

I'd had an excuse ready for every night I was supposed to be at his side.

Then I watched him keep a straight face in front of seven men who wanted him gone.

I had put my hands on the table and told them I'd asked him for nothing.

He opened the penthouse door in his shirtsleeves.

He looked tired and he looked glad to see me, and the second one made me angrier.

"You didn't have to do that," he said. "In the boardroom."

"I know."

"Why did you?"

"Rule three," I said. "No questions."

I took the folder out of my bag and set it on his counter.

"Four years ago, my father sold his firm to a company called Harbor Lane. They paid sixty cents on the dollar. He had a stroke in March."

Weston said nothing.

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