Chapter 10 - THE CFO'S DOUBLE GAME
Nathan did not deny the meetings.
That was the first point in his favor.
“I met Evelyn six times.”
“Why?”
“Because I was documenting her.”
I folded my arms.
“Convenient.”
He slid a recorder across the table.
“Listen.”
Evelyn’s voice filled the room.
Carter is finished. Samantha will destroy him once she finds out about Khloe. When that happens, the board needs someone stable.
Nathan responded on the recording:
And you think that’s me?
Evelyn:
I think you’re useful.
Nathan looked embarrassed.
“I realized she was trying to recruit me.”
“So you kept meeting her?”
“To understand what she was doing.”
“Why didn’t you tell the board?”
“I did.”
He handed Patricia a sealed memo dated nine months earlier.
She opened it.
Nathan had reported concerns about Evelyn’s influence and unusual consulting payments.
Patricia had ordered quiet monitoring because there wasn’t yet enough evidence.
Suddenly, Nathan’s calls made more sense.
He had not stumbled onto the fraud after the jet incident.
He had been waiting for the transactions to become provable.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I asked.
Patricia answered.
“Because until the audit established a direct connection to your rights, this was an internal company investigation.”
Fair.
I hated it.
But fair.
Then Nathan showed me another recording.
This one was Carter.
My husband.
Speaking privately with Nathan five months earlier.
“If Samantha ever threatens the patent license, we need a continuity plan.”
Nathan asked:
“What kind?”
Carter replied:
“One where she can’t hold Sterling hostage.”
I closed my eyes.
He had spent months portraying me as the threat while the people around him stole money, copied files, forged signatures, and built competing companies.
That evening, the independent review issued preliminary findings.
Related-party transactions had violated company policy.
The disputed prenuptial amendment was likely fabricated.
Confidential patent information had been mishandled.
And Carter had failed to disclose material conflicts.
The rescue agreement contained a governance trigger.
If the board formally found material founder misconduct, part of my preferred equity converted into voting shares.
Not majority control.
But enough to change the balance.
“How much?” I asked Marcus.
He smiled slightly.
“Twenty-eight percent.”
Combined with shares already held by my trust, I would control thirty-seven percent.
Adrian held nine.
Evelyn six.
Carter twenty-four.
The rest belonged to employees and outside investors.
No one controlled Sterling alone anymore.
Then Adrian called.
“I have a proposal.”
“What?”
“Vote with me.”
May you like
“For what?”
“To remove Carter tomorrow morning.”
