I slid the agreement back. “We will consider it.”
Celeste kissed my cheek. “That is why I love you. You are reasonable.”
After they left, my mother stared at me. “You are not marrying her.”
“No.”
“Then why did you let them walk out smiling?”
“Because arrogant people reveal more when they think they are safe.”
The audit had already confirmed what I suspected. Monroe Holdings was not a thriving dynasty. It was a collapsing mansion freshly painted for guests. Victor had borrowed against nearly every property, shifted pension money between subsidiaries, and used Celeste’s charitable foundation for personal expenses.
Worse, their rescue depended on me.
Six months earlier, Victor had quietly approached my investment division for a two-hundred-million-dollar credit facility. He hid the request behind shell companies, assuming I would never review deals below my executive level. But I had grown up watching landlords hide ownership behind cousins and fake addresses. Shell games were familiar.
That evening, Celeste hosted a private dinner for wedding sponsors. She wore my grandmother’s emerald necklace, which I had lent her for engagement week. Marriage
