"I love you too." I kissed her knuckles. "Now let's go remind your uncle exactly who he's fucking with."
Angelina smiled wickedly, and damnit if that didn't make her the most beautiful woman in the world, I don't know what did.
Angelina
Iwalked into the Castellano & Co. boardroom at exactly 2:00 PM with my head high and my spine straight. The room fell silent. All nine board members were already seated around the long noir table. Vincent sat at the head inmyseat looking smug and comfortable like he'd already won. Arrogant bastard! This was far from over.
"Angelina." He didn't stand. "How kind of you to cut short your honeymoon to join us."
"Cut the shit, Vincent." I dropped my briefcase on the table with a thunk that made several board members jump. "You called this meeting. Let's get to it."
I scanned the room, cataloging allies and enemies. Margaret Chen, our longest-serving board member and my mother's friend. She was sympathetic, but cautious. Robert Paulson and David Kim, both brought in by Vincent over the years. Hostile.
Sarah Mitchell and James Rodriguez, neutral but leaning toward whoever seemed strongest. Thomas Brennan, LindaWashington, and Patricia Alvarez were still undecided, but I could work with that.
Four votes for Vincent including himself. Four potentially for me. Margaret was the swing vote.
"Very well." Vincent pulled out a folder thick with documents. "I've called this emergency meeting because I've discovered serious financial irregularities that require immediate board action."
"Irregularities you fabricated," I said calmly.
His smile didn't waver as he pointedly stared at me. "I have documentation showing that over the past six months, you've authorized nearly two million dollars in unauthorized expenditures, created shell companies to funnel money out of Castellano & Co., and engaged in insider trading that could expose us to federal prosecution."
"Show them," I said. "Show the board your 'evidence.'"
He did, passing around copies of purchase orders, transfer authorizations, and corporate documents that all bore what looked like my signature. I watched the board members' faces as they reviewed the materials. Concern. Confusion. In some cases, anger.
"These are serious allegations," Margaret said quietly. "Angelina, do you have a response?"
"I do." I opened my own briefcase and pulled out a much thicker folder. "But first, let's talk about where Vincent's 'evidence' actually came from."
I distributed my own copies—the real documents, side by side with Vincent's forgeries.
"These signatures Vincent claims are mine? They're forgeries. Good ones, I'll admit. But if you look closely—" I pointed to specific examples, "—the loop on my 'A' is wrong. The slant of my 'C' is off. These were copied from my real signatures but executed by someone else."
"That's absurd," Vincent said, but his voice had lost some of its confidence.
"Is it? Because I have these documents authenticated by three separate handwriting experts. All of them confirm these signatures are not mine." I passed around those reports too. "I also have security footage showing I wasn't even in the building on several of the dates these documents were supposedly signed."
I pulled out more papers. "On March 15th, when I allegedly authorized a $300,000 transfer to a shell company, I was actually in New York meeting with suppliers. I have hotel receipts, restaurant charges, and testimony from five witnesses."
I pulled out the printed copies and passed them around.
"On April 3rd, when I supposedly signed papers creating an offshore account, I was at a medical appointment. I have doctor's notes and pharmacy records."
I handed that over to them as well to see.
"And on May 14th—" I looked directly at Vincent, "—when I allegedly approved the single largest fraudulent transfer, I was at my own wedding. In front of two hundred witnesses."
I supplied my wedding invitation. The room was dead silent.
"So either I have the ability to be in two places at once," I continued, "or someone has been forging my signature and creating false documents to frame me for their own crimes."
"This is ridiculous," Vincent sputtered. "She's fabricating evidence to cover her tracks. She could have misdated these on purpose!"
"Am I? Could I?" I pulled out the final stack of papers—the ones Dez had given me months ago. "Because I also have documentation of actual embezzlement. Two point three million dollars, to be exact, siphoned from company accounts over the past three years through fake vendor payments and inflated expense reports. That’s before all of your recent stunts."
I distributed copies. "These are the real transactions. Real bank records. Real paper trails. And they all lead to accounts controlled by one person."
