"What kind of sensitive matter?" Walter asked.
"I don't know. I wasn't in the room. But I heard raised voices through the door. Harold saying something about it being too risky, that he had a reputation to protect." Vanessa's voice trembled right along with her hands. "Then they had a second meeting a week later. That's when this check was written. And that's also when Harold suddenly had the guarantees to purchase two major collections—the Harmon estate wines and the Morrison vintage portfolio. Both from Callaway family connections."
"He sweetened the deal," Devon said, his voice hard.
"Exactly. These are copies of the purchase agreements." Vanessa pointed to the documents. "Both collections are worth easily half a million. Harold's commission on those sales would be substantial."
Emery stared at the papers. This wasn't just a payment. This was a business arrangement—an orchestrated plan to destroy her while enriching Harold. Potentially, holding him hostage for what he’d done, but in the same breath, ensuring they had an ongoing business relationship that benefited the Callaways and greased Harold’s palms.
"What about the forgeries?" Gabe asked. "The authentication records that got Emery fired—were those created by Harold?"
"I can't prove Harold created them, but I can prove they're fake." Vanessa pulled out a thin stack of photographs. "These are copies of the authentication records Harold submitted to the auction board when he fired Emery. The ones with her signature approving the fraudulent bottles."
Devon took the photos, and Emery leaned in to look. Her stomach dropped, a dizzying sensation like falling. She recognized the format, the layout—these were supposed to be her authentication records. Her work. Her signature.
But they weren't.
The signatures were wrong. Close, but not quite right. Someone had studied her handwriting, practiced the loops and curves, gotten it almost perfect. But the 'y' was off. The pressure was different. These were fake documents claiming she'd approved the sale of counterfeit wines.
Harold had done this. Had created false evidence with her forged signature and used it to destroy her in front of everyone she'd ever worked with. Had looked her in the eye while he fired her, had let her walk out of that auction house believing she'd failed, thinking she'd somehow missed obvious forgeries?—
The room tilted slightly. She gripped the edge of the island, her breathing coming too fast.
"Emery?" Devon's hand was on her back, warm and steady.
She couldn't speak. Could only stare at the photos of documents, bearing her name, destroying her reputation, all while Harold pocketed a million dollars and lucrative business deals.
“I’m fine.” She caught Devon’s gaze. “Really. I’m good. Let’s keep going.”
Gabe reached for the photos and studied them. “The timestamps on these records don’t match the provenance. I know this because Devon and I were discussing these wines at the auction before the public shaming.”
"I compared these to the actual authentication records," Vanessa said. "The ones still in our system, the ones that were never submitted to the board. What’s interesting about it is that I know Emery submitted the original paperwork on this, and that timestamp is the proof.” Vanessa tapped her finger on one page, flipped it over, and ran her finger across another one. “That’s the forgery, the one that was submitted to the board. Same timestamp, bad autotoxication code and the misinformation that Emery supposedly documented.”
"He set me up," Emery whispered. Fire exploded in the center of her belly. It radiated to every part of her body like hot molten lava creeping down the side of a volcano. Slow, but deadly. "I knew it."
"These are the same inconsistencies I found in the documents sent to that reporter," Gabe said quietly. "Same signature errors, same formatting problems."
Walter studied each document with careful attention. "May we keep these? Make copies for our attorney and the police?"
"You can keep them. I made copies." Vanessa's hands were steadier now, though her voice shook with every syllable. "I've been documenting things for weeks. Ever since I overheard Harold on the phone with Callie right after David’s funeral.”
“Callie?” Emery asked.
Vanessa met her eyes. "He was worried. Asking if they were sure this was going to work, if they were certain Emery wouldn't fight back. And Callie—" She paused, swallowing hard. "Callie told him not to worry, that they had 'contingencies in place' and that Emery would be taken care of.”
Emery felt Devon's hand find hers under the table, squeezing tight.
"That's when I knew I had to do something," Vanessa said. "I told myself maybe I misheard, maybe it was about somethingelse. But then I heard someone shot at her in broad daylight. That's when I couldn't pretend anymore."
Emery wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to storm over to Pemberton's Auction House and demand answers. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the evidence of her mentor's betrayal.
"There's one more thing," Vanessa said quietly. She pulled out a final document—a printed screenshot of a text message exchange. "This is from Harold's phone. I shouldn't have access to his messages, but he uses the same computer I do for backups, and I found these in his cloud storage."
Riley took the paper, her face paling as she read. She handed it to Walter, who closed his eyes briefly before passing it to Devon.
Devon read it, and Emery felt his entire body go rigid beside her.
"What?" Emery asked. "What does it say?"
