Eli laughed again, but this time it cracked at the edges. “This is absurd. Talia, whatever story you told them—”
“We brought documents,” I said.
My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
Dana clicked once. The screen changed to the first exhibit.
The email to Mateo.
“Once Rome closes, Talia has no leverage. Cancel her ticket if you have to. She can’t be in that room.”
The faces of the investors appeared in separate video windows along the side of the screen. Some were in offices. One was in a car. One had clearly been pulled from dinner. All of them were watching Eli.
“That was taken out of context,” he said.
Mira leaned forward. “Then you will have an opportunity to provide the context under oath.”
Mrs. Whitaker lifted a folder. “Before we discuss anything else, did you instruct anyone to cancel your wife’s ticket today?”
Eli’s eyes flicked to Maris.
It was quick.
Not quick enough.
“Travel arrangements were handled by my office,” he said.
Maris turned her head slowly. “Your office?”
He ignored her. “Talia has been unstable. I was trying to avoid a public incident. Clearly, I failed.”
There it was again. The word he had chosen for me. Unstable. A convenient little box for every woman who refuses to be quietly robbed.
My fingers curled around the edge of the conference table in Los Angeles.
Dana glanced at me, a silent question.
I nodded.
She clicked again.
The airport receipt filled the screen.
Cancellation time. Account holder. Device authorization.
Eli’s phone.
Mrs. Whitaker read it without expression. “Mr. Navarro, this was cancelled from your authenticated device six minutes before check-in.”
“Phones get passed around,” he snapped.
“To whom?” Dana asked.
He did not answer.
Maris stepped back another inch.
I watched her face carefully. I had expected arrogance, maybe denial. Instead I saw confusion hardening into fear. She knew she was the other woman. She knew she had accepted gifts that did not belong to her. But she had not known he had written her into a fraud.
That was Eli’s weakness. He mistook everyone’s self-interest for loyalty.
One investor, a man named Graham Patel, spoke from the screen. “Eli, did you create Larkbridge Holdings?”
“It is a strategic entity,” Eli said.
“Did the board approve the lease transfers?”
“Approval was pending.”
Mira opened a binder. “The documents state approval was granted at a meeting held on April 3rd. Mrs. Navarro is listed as present. She was not present. On April 3rd, she was in a pediatric clinic with her daughter. We have time-stamped medical records.”
Eli’s mouth tightened.
Nia.
For all his pride, all his vanity, all his hunger, I had hoped there was one line he would not cross. But he had used even our daughter’s illness as cover, signing my name into a meeting while I sat beside her under fluorescent lights, holding a paper cup of water and trying not to frighten her.
Something inside me went very still.
“You forged my attendance,” I said.
Eli looked at the screen. “Don’t be dramatic.”
The room changed.
It was not visible exactly, but everyone felt it. A collective withdrawal. People can tolerate ambition. They can excuse arrogance. Some will even forgive betrayal if money is good enough. But contempt shown too openly
