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“Stalking doesn’t count as several just because you do it through different channels or in different rooms.”

A smirk appeared on his face. “What are you reviewing?”

I leaned back in the chair and looked at the screen again because looking at him for too long had become professionally unwise and personally catastrophic.

“Some emergency PR plans in case a couple of conflicts get made public for a client.”

“Marwood Inc.,” he said.

I looked at him. “Do you have every Prescott Vantage client file memorized, or only the ones you think might become useful leverage?”

“The ones that become problems. It was flagged for me by my team.”

“Your team flagged the wrong problem,” I said.

Cain’s expression didn’t shift, but his attention was all on me. Not that it wasn’t when he walked into the room, but he enjoyed incompetence only when he could profit from it. Actual competence, even pointed in his direction, seemed to interest him more.

“Explain.”

“Marwood isn’t worried about the conflicts becoming public.” I tapped the screen, enlarging the internal memo Ashcroft’s people had prepared. “They’re worried about who will be blamed for them becoming public.”

Cain walked further into the room and stopped near the edge of the desk. I turned the tablet toward him so he could see the highlighted section.

“Your people read this as a disclosure risk,” I said. “They built a response plan around the assumption that a board member’s private investments may leak during the executive transition. That’s not wrong, exactly, but it’s not the center of the problem.”

Cain lowered his gaze to the screen. “What is?” he asked.

“Marwood’s outgoing CFO.”

“Kevin Nader.”

“Yes.” I tapped another section. “Everyone is treating Nader like a fragile piece because he’s leaving under pressure. He’s already accepted the fact that the board pushed him out. He’s rich, insulated, and arrogant enough to believe history will be kind to him if he waits long enough. The fragile piece is Eliza Marwood.”

“The founder’s daughter.”

“And the current chair,” I said. “Which your memo mentions once and then proceeds to ignore.”

He paused for a moment and then said, “Continue.”

I hated how much I liked hearing that when I was actually explaining something worth explaining.

“Eliza championed Nader’s appointment six years ago. She framed him as proof Marwood had evolved past the old family-business model. If his shit became public, the market does not just ask why Nader was dirty. They’d ask why Eliza missed it, why she protected him, and questions around her judgment.”

Cain looked at the memo for another few seconds. “Ashcroft’s team recommended a prepared statement from Nader acknowledging the conflict.”

“Which would be a mistake.”

“Why?”

“Because the second Nader speaks first, Eliza looks reactive. Worse, she looks protected probably because of her family name. The statement cannot come from him and it absolutely cannot say the board was unaware.”

“Because they were aware,” Cain said.

“Of course they were aware.” I gave him a look. “Maybe not of every detail, and maybe not in a way that creates a clean paper trail, but they knew enough to smell smoke. And they let it happen. My team needs to handle this directly and not through Ashcroft Group. All it does is create more red tape and more people we have to go through to get the job done.” There, I said it. I was concerned he wouldn’t go for it, but I had to take the chance and shoot my shot to get more control back over my clientele and business.

Cain’s gaze moved from the screen to my face. He stared me down for several seconds before he spoke. “Under one condition.”

I was almost afraid to ask, but I needed to know. “What condition is that?”