“Some of them.”
Ellie returned to drawing.
Grant stayed.
For fifteen minutes neither spoke.
It was one of the most productive meetings of his career.
The audit uncovered another problem.
Michael Trent’s firm subcontracted brand work to Lattice & Rowe, the public-relations agency where Marissa had been a partner before marrying Grant.
She still owned a minority financial interest.
Over eighteen months, the Holloway Foundation paid Lattice & Rowe $640,000.
The board had approved the contract.
Grant voted yes.
He had forgotten Marissa retained equity.
She had disclosed it in a general marriage asset schedule.
Not specifically to the board.
Conflict-of-interest rules required direct disclosure.
Marissa had not made one.
Whether that became fraud depended on details lawyers would argue for months.
For Grant, the more important realization was simpler.
He signed the approval.
He had read two pages of a sixty-page board packet on a plane.
Then voted.
Again.
Convenience.
Delegation.
Assumption.
Grant called the foundation chair.
“I need an independent review.”
The chair sighed.
“Of what?”
“Me too.”
Silence.
Grant continued.
“Everything connected to Lattice, Trent, and Marissa’s advisory role.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
He looked toward Ellie.
“I’m doing it anyway.”
The board launched an outside investigation.
News eventually leaked.
It always did.
Headlines appeared.
BILLIONAIRE FOUNDATION REVIEWS FAMILY-CONNECTED CONTRACTS.
GRANT HOLLOWAY’S WIFE STEPS BACK FROM CHARITY ROLE.
Questions about marriage followed.
Grant refused.
One photograph of Ellie leaving school caused three photographers to appear near the gate the next morning.
Grant was furious.
Then realized his own public family branding helped create the interest.
He had allowed Ellie in foundation campaigns because Anna loved the work.
He told himself that made it wholesome.
Now he asked Ellie a question no one had asked clearly before.
“Do you want to be in foundation pictures?”
She shrugged.
“That’s not yes.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s also not yes.”
Ellie looked at him.
“Can I not?”
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
Grant removed her from public materials.
Not from Anna’s history.
From marketing.
The distinction mattered.
Marissa filed for divorce before Grant did.
Her lawyer released a statement accusing Grant of “weaponizing a private parenting disagreement to consolidate control over marital and philanthropic assets.”
Grant read it once.
Patrice took his phone away.
“You are done with statements.”
“I didn’t write one.”
“Your face is writing seventeen.”
He almost smiled.
Marissa requested temporary access to the house.
Granted.
When Ellie was at school and Grant was at the office.
She collected clothing and personal belongings under supervision.
Rosa happened to be present.
The two women stood in the kitchen.
Neither expected the other.
Marissa looked older than seven weeks earlier.
No glamorous makeup.
Hair pulled back.
Rosa spoke first.
“You lied to me.”
Marissa closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“You made me leave her.”
Marissa looked toward the hallway.
“I thought you undermined me.”
“She loved you.”
The sentence hit.
Marissa stared.
Rosa continued.
“She defended you.”
“What?”
“When children at school said you weren’t her real family.”