A second folder opened.
The screen at the end of the room remained blank; no presentation was necessary.
The evidence existed in printed records, signed approvals, travel logs, expense reports, and witness statements.
The audit chair began with the gala.
Ryan had charged personal tailoring, private transportation for selected guests, and an upgraded presidential suite to Summit’s event budget.
He had also authorized a consulting payment to a company owned by Olivia’s brother without disclosing the relationship.
Ryan’s confidence flickered.
“Those expenses were approved by my office.”
“Your office cannot approve your undisclosed conflicts,” the audit chair replied.
“The consulting contract delivered value.”
“Then why was it divided into four invoices, each one below the threshold requiring committee review?”
Ryan looked toward the general counsel.
She did not rescue him.
More documents appeared.
Executive vehicles had been used for personal weekends.
Corporate staff had been directed to arrange private reservations.
A company analyst who questioned the consulting invoices had been transferred two days later.
Three employees had submitted confidential complaints about Ryan’s retaliatory behavior.
None of those complaints alone had triggered termination.
Together, they described a pattern.
Ryan paced behind his chair.
“This is a setup.
Emma has spent months collecting grievances because she wanted control.”
“I already had control,” I said.
That stopped him.
The truth settled over the room with almost physical weight.
I had not needed to fight him for power.
I had possessed it before he entered Summit’s lobby for his first interview.
Ryan gripped the back of a chair.
“Then why make me CEO?”
“I did not make you CEO.
I recommended that the board consider you.
You completed the selection process and earned the appointment based on your results.”
His shoulders straightened slightly, grasping at that fragment of validation.
“Exactly.
I earned it.”
“You earned the opportunity,” I said.
“What you did with it is why we are here.”
The chairwoman asked Ryan to sit.
This time, he did.
His anger had begun to break apart, revealing panic beneath it.
“Emma, we have babies,” he said.
“Whatever happened last night, we should discuss it privately.”
The sudden softness in his voice was almost more insulting than the cruelty.
Twelve hours earlier, our babies had been proof of my failure to keep myself presentable.
Now they were shields he hoped to stand behind.
“Our children are safe at the hotel with the caregiver I hired this morning,” I said.
“They are not part of this review.”
“You hired someone without talking to me?”
“You told me childcare was my job.
I handled it.”
Daniel lowered his eyes, but not before Ryan saw the reaction.
Ryan leaned toward me.
“You locked me out of my own house.”
“The townhouse belongs to Carter Meridian Properties.
You have lived there under a revocable occupancy agreement tied to our marriage.
