“So the ballroom holds five hundred seated comfortably,” I said, walking them through the space. “But I want to reconfigure it, panels here, signing tables along this wall, a lounge section in the back corner for the VIP meet and greet. We'd have the stage centered here with a step and repeat on both sides.”
“And the brunch situation?” Kim asked, lowering her phone.
“Separate dining room off the east corridor. I'm thinking a full Southern spread — grits station, biscuit bar, the works. We want people fed and comfortable before they spend money on books.”
Iesha laughed. “That's why we came to you.”
I was mid-sentence about the lighting package when I noticed the couple on the far side of the ballroom. They’d been there when we arrived, speaking quietly to one of the venue coordinators, a man and a woman in business casual, the kind of neutral that tried too hard to disappear. The coordinator pointed toward the stage end of the room, and they nodded, moving in that direction.
I didn't think twice about it. Venues ran multiple tours. It happened.
We finished the walkthrough forty minutes later. Kim had a client call, and Iesha was out of time on the meter; both of them were rushing out with promises to review the proposal by Friday. I stood at the ballroom entrance watching them go, already mentally drafting the vendor list.
“Ms. Outlaw.”
I turned. The couple from earlier was crossing the room toward me, and the coordinator was gone. The woman had her hand at her hip in a way that wasn’t casual. The man was already reaching into his jacket.
I went still.
They stopped a few feet from me, and the badges came out together, smooth and practiced.
“Agent Troy, FBI,” the man said. “This is Agent Walker. We apologize for the setup, but we needed to speak with you privately.”
I looked at the badges, then at their faces, then back at the ballroom doors where Kim and Iesha had just walked out.
I kept my face still. “It’s Mrs. Grimson. How can I help you?”
“We'll get straight to it,” Walker said. She had a rehearsed warmth that didn't reach her eyes. “We know what you saw in the basement at the Grimson estate. We know you were present during the incident with Cyrus Delmont. And we know your marriage to Lesley Grimson began as a protective arrangement, not a genuine union.”
I let the silence sit for a moment. Outside the ballroom windows, the city moved — cars, people, the ordinary afternoon going about its business.
“I'm not sure what basement you're referring to,” I said. “Or who Cyrus Delmont is.”
Troy stepped forward. “Mrs. Grimson, we know for a fact Icy Co Events hosted an event at the estate on the night of May 5th.”
“Okay, as you can see, I run a very successful business. Is that against the law?”
He blinked. Walker recovered faster. “We're not here to threaten you. We're here to offer you a way out. Your husband's operation is under active federal investigation. When this comes down, it’s going to come down hard and fast, and anyone standing next to Lesley Grimson when it does…”
“Is his wife,” I said. “Legally, faithfully, and by her own choice.” I tilted my head. “Do you have a warrant, Agent Troy? Walker?”
“No, but…”
“Then this conversation is voluntary.” I clicked my pen closed and slid it into my tote. “And I'm choosing to end it. My husband is a legitimate businessman who employs over two hundred people across two states. If you have evidence of criminal activity, arrest him. If you don’t, I’d encourage you to redirect your resources. Maybe on the fat fuck in office.” I picked up my iPad. “I have a vendor call in ten minutes. Is that all?”
Walker pulled a card from her jacket and held it out. “If you change your mind…”
“I won't.” I didn't take the card. “But I will be informing our attorneys about this interaction. Just so there are no surprises on your end.”
I turned and walked toward the ballroom doors, heels steady, the chandelier light catching my earrings as I moved. Behind me, I heard them exchange a word or two in low voices.
I didn't look back.
Malice was in the lobby when I came through the doors, stationed near the entrance the way he always was, giving me space but never giving me distance. He read my face in one second flat.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
“Feds just paid me a visit,” I said, not breaking stride. “And don't tell Lesley yet. I'll tell him myself when he gets home.”
