“They pulled the reimbursement reports,” he told me. “Hotel bookings, wellness claims, expensive gifts.”
I swallowed. “All tied to Alyssa?”
“They traced everything back to her vendor profile,” Mark said grimly.
“Texts too?”
“Oh yeah,” he replied. “Expense reports, vendor records, his company phone history. HR has it all.”
He nodded toward the glass conference room.
Inside, Cole was pacing, gesturing with his hands like he was pitching something. HR sat across from him without expression. Darren, the CEO, looked worn out. A VP I’d only seen at holiday parties sat quietly watching like a judge.
Then the door swung open.
Alyssa stormed inside, ponytail swinging, phone in her hand, already raising her voice. She didn’t even knock.
“What is she doing?” I whispered.
“Making it worse,” Mark muttered. “She’s furious they’re dragging her name into this.”
HR lifted a hand to quiet her, but Alyssa talked straight over it.
Someone slid a manila folder across the table toward Cole.
He stopped mid-sentence.
His entire posture collapsed, like the air had been knocked out of him.
**
About twenty minutes later, the door opened again. Cole stepped into the hallway—and froze when he saw me.
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