Chapter 4
At 10:14, Daniel Cho approached me.
“We have the votes.”
“How many?”
“Enough to suspend the restructuring immediately.”
“And Graham?”
Daniel hesitated.
“The board wants an executive session tomorrow morning.”
“To remove him?”
“To discuss whether he should remain chief executive.”
I looked toward my husband.
He was speaking with a donor.
Smiling.
Still performing.
“Don't remove him because he cheated on me.”
Daniel nodded.
“That isn't a governance issue.”
“Remove him only if his professional conduct justifies it.”
Daniel studied me.
“You're protecting him?”
“No.”
I looked at Celeste's bracelet.
“I'm protecting the foundation from becoming a weapon in my divorce.”
Something in Daniel's expression softened.
“Understood.”
“And Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“Get an independent audit.”
“Of Lane Creative?”
“Everything.”
His expression changed.
“You think there's more?”
“I think a man willing to hide one conflict of interest should be given the opportunity to prove there aren't others.”
Daniel nodded.
“I'll call Marcus.”
At 11:03, the ballroom began emptying.
At 11:27, Celeste approached me.
She had removed the bracelet.
She held it in her hand.
“I want you to know something.”
I waited.
“I didn't know he bought this through your household account.”
“That doesn't make it better.”
“I know.”
Her voice was quieter than before.
“I thought it came from him personally.”
“It did.”
She flinched.
I had not raised my voice.
That made it land harder.
Celeste looked toward Graham.
“He told me you didn't care about the foundation anymore.”
“I know.”
“He said you wanted out.”
“I know.”
“He said the two of you were waiting until after the anniversary to announce the separation.”
That one was new.
My chest tightened.
“When did he say that?”
“January.”
Nine months earlier.
Nine months.
Graham had been telling another woman my marriage was ending while still discussing summer travel with me.
Celeste swallowed.
“I should have asked you.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't.”
“No.”
“I wanted to believe him.”
There was nothing to say to that.
I understood wanting to believe Graham Whitaker.
I had done it for eight years.
Celeste placed the bracelet on the table.
“I'm resigning from the foundation.”
I looked at her.
“That will be decided tomorrow.”
“I've already sent the email.”
She turned to leave.
“Celeste.”
She stopped.
I looked at the bracelet.
“Take it.”
Her face flushed.
“I don't want it.”
“Neither do I.”
“It belongs to you.”
“No.”
I met her eyes.
“It belongs to the man who bought it.”