Another silence.
Then she said something that made the room feel suddenly smaller.
“You were the one who kept asking questions.”
James closed his eyes.
“Do not call me again tonight.”
“James—”
He hung up.
It was exactly the wrong thing to do.
Rochelle, frightened now and furious at being discarded the instant trouble appeared, called her own firm’s compliance department.
She did not confess to some grand conspiracy.
There had been no theatrical agreement between them.
Their relationship had developed through dinners, drinks, flirtation, secrecy, and James’s endless curiosity about deals her firm was pursuing.
He had made sensitive questions sound like pillow talk without ever needing to say why he wanted the answers.
Rochelle had enjoyed feeling important.
Now she understood how much danger that feeling had created.
By 2:00 a.m., two separate internal investigations were moving.
By 3:15, senior people at Scott Capital were discussing whether James needed to be temporarily removed from investment decisions while the records were examined.
By 4:00, outside counsel and compliance specialists were being contacted.
The greater threat was not a courtroom.
Not yet.
It was confidence.
Private equity ran on money, but also on trust.
Investors gave managers enormous discretion because they believed the managers’ judgment, controls, and reputation justified it.
Once questions arose about how that judgment had been informed, every other question followed.
Had policies been breached?
Were investors exposed?
Had confidential information been misused?
Could any pending transaction become contaminated by the scandal?
Scott Capital’s senior team could not wait for James to provide reassuring answers before protecting the firm.
At 5:20 a.m., his authority over several pending decisions was suspended.
At 5:47, he received notice that an emergency board meeting would begin at seven.
At 6:03, a major institutional investor requested an immediate explanation.
At 6:18, another asked whether provisions allowing it to pause new commitments had been triggered.
James called everyone.
People who normally answered on the first ring suddenly needed counsel present.
People who laughed at his jokes now spoke in careful sentences.
For the first time since Scott Capital had become powerful, James Scott could feel a room closing around him that money could not immediately open.
Across the city, Sharon sat beside a window as dawn turned Lake Michigan from black to steel gray.
Daniel placed a mug of tea beside her.
“The review is happening,” he said.
She nodded.
She had expected triumph.
Instead she felt tired.
“Does that disappoint you?” Daniel asked.
“What?”
“That you don’t look happy.”
Sharon stared into the tea.
“I spent ten years helping him become the man who thought he could do this.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”
Daniel did not offer a speech.
That was one reason she trusted him.
He simply sat across from her.
At seven, James entered the emergency meeting from his home study wearing the same shirt he had worn beneath his tuxedo.
The bow tie and jacket were gone.
The polished gala version of him had disappeared.
He denied wrongdoing.
