Vanessa finally looked up, her expression pained. "I?—"
"As I explained to the assembled buyers at the auction," Harold continued smoothly, cutting off Vanessa. "I had to let you go for forging authentication documents—with evidence bearing your signature."
"Evidence that was planted," Emery said, the words escaping before she could stop them.
"Planted?" Harold's laugh was cold. "That's quite creative. Though, I suppose when you've destroyed your own career, you need someone to blame."
"You set me up. I don’t know why, but it’s the only explanation.”
Harold's expression flickered—a flash of hardened outrage. “That’s absurd. And defamatory." His voice carried an edge. "I run a legitimate business. Have for twenty years. My reputation is built on integrity and accuracy. The idea that I would fabricate evidence against an employee is not only insulting but also actionable."
"Get out," Riley said quietly.
Harold turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"
"You heard her," Grant said, standing. "This is a private business, and you're not welcome here."
"We're paying customers?—"
"Not anymore." Erin moved to the door and held it open. "Please leave."
Sandy rose from her barstool, her casual demeanor evaporating into pure cop. "I think you should listen to them. Before this becomes an official matter."
Vanessa was already backing toward the door, clearly uncomfortable. "We should go."
But Emery's control had finally snapped. All the humiliation, the months of rebuilding, the constant doubt—it came flooding out in a rush of anger she couldn't contain.
"Someone paid you," she said, her voice shaking. "Your operation has been legitimized for decades. You had no reason to come after me unless someone made it worth your while. What happened that day—the public firing, the social media posts, the speed with which you turned the entire industry against me—that wasn't about protecting your business. That was personal. That was orchestrated."
"You're grasping at straws." Harold straightened to his full height, his voice cutting through the space between them. "Trying to create conspiracy theories to explain your own mistakes."
"What mistakes? I never forged those documents. My work was always thorough, always accurate. You know that. For two years, I authenticated hundreds of bottles without a single complaint." Emery stepped closer. "And then suddenly, within the span of a week, you 'discover' forged certificates with my signature? Documents I never created for wines I never authenticated?"
"You're delusional."
"Am I? Or am I too close to the truth?" Emery's voice rose. "Who paid you? Who wanted me destroyed badly enough to compromise your precious reputation?"
"Emery—" Riley touched her arm, a warning.
But Emery couldn't stop. "You humiliated me in front of an entire auction house. Posted it on social media. Made me unemployable. A man with your reputation didn't need to do all that just to fire an employee. You were making a statement. Making sure everyone in the industry knew I was finished."
Vanessa had gone pale, her eyes darting between Harold and Emery. "We should?—"
"Enough," Harold said coldly. "You forged authentication documents. I have the evidence. End of story."
"Evidence that someone paid you to create."
"That's slander." Harold's face flushed with anger—or was it fear? "And if you continue making these baseless accusations, you'll find yourself facing legal consequences."
"Truth is a defense against slander," Sandy said from her position by the bar, her cop voice fully engaged now.
Harold's gaze snapped to her. "Are you threatening me, Chief?"
"I'm stating a legal fact. If what Emery says is true, it's not slander."
"It's not true. It's the desperate fantasy of someone who can't accept responsibility for her own actions." Harold turned toward the door. "I suppose desperation makes people believe all sorts of things." He glanced at Riley. "Your family would know something about that, wouldn't they? With your mother's trial coming up, and all."
Grant moved forward, but Sandy held up a hand. "It’s best if you leave. Now."
