Chapter 4 #2
"No idea. Bryson said Gabe only caught fragments of the conversation before he left." Grant shrugged. "But knowing Winston, if there's a way to contest it, he'll find it."
The door chimed again, and Emery's blood ran cold.
Harold Pemberton walked in with a woman Emery recognized immediately—Vanessa Wright, mid-thirties, blonde, dressed in the same kind of professional attire Emery used to wear.
Vanessa had been Harold's assistant for years, always hovering in the background during authentications.
They were deep in conversation, Harold gesturing animatedly, until he looked up and spotted Emery at the bar.
His expression shifted from surprise to something harder, more calculating.
"Well," Harold said, his voice carrying across the room. "I heard through the grapevine that you'd landed on your feet. I have to say, I'm surprised the Boones would take such a risk."
Emery felt everyone's eyes on her. Sandy had straightened on her barstool, her cop instincts clearly engaged. Riley had gone very still beside her. Even Grant's expression, as he stared at the other man, had turned cold, which Emery appreciated.
Vanessa had the decency to look uncomfortable, her gaze dropping to the floor.
"Harold." Emery forced herself to sound calm despite her racing heart. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Client meeting in the area. Thought we'd stop for a taste." He gestured to Vanessa. "You remember Vanessa, of course. She took over your position after your... departure. Turns out loyalty and attention to detail are valuable traits."
The implication was clear.
"Hello, Vanessa," Emery said quietly. "Congratulations on the promotion."
Vanessa finally looked up, her expression pained. "I—"
"As I explained to the assembled buyers at the auction," Harold continued smoothly, cutting off Vanessa. "I had to let you go for forging authentication documents—with evidence bearing your signature."
"Evidence that was planted," Emery said, the words escaping before she could stop them.
"Planted?" Harold's laugh was cold. "That's quite creative. Though, I suppose when you've destroyed your own career, you need someone to blame."
"You set me up. I don’t know why, but it’s the only explanation.”
Harold's expression flickered—a flash of hardened outrage.
“That’s absurd. And defamatory." His voice carried an edge.
"I run a legitimate business. Have for twenty years.
My reputation is built on integrity and accuracy.
The idea that I would fabricate evidence against an employee is not only insulting but also actionable. "
"Get out," Riley said quietly.
Harold turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"
"You heard her," Grant said, standing. "This is a private business, and you're not welcome here."
"We're paying customers—"
"Not anymore." Erin moved to the door and held it open. "Please leave."
Sandy rose from her barstool, her casual demeanor evaporating into pure cop. "I think you should listen to them. Before this becomes an official matter."
Vanessa was already backing toward the door, clearly uncomfortable. "We should go."
But Emery's control had finally snapped. All the humiliation, the months of rebuilding, the constant doubt—it came flooding out in a rush of anger she couldn't contain.
"Someone paid you," she said, her voice shaking.
"Your operation has been legitimized for decades.
You had no reason to come after me unless someone made it worth your while.
What happened that day—the public firing, the social media posts, the speed with which you turned the entire industry against me—that wasn't about protecting your business.
That was personal. That was orchestrated. "
"You're grasping at straws." Harold straightened to his full height, his voice cutting through the space between them. "Trying to create conspiracy theories to explain your own mistakes."
"What mistakes? I never forged those documents.
My work was always thorough, always accurate.
You know that. For two years, I authenticated hundreds of bottles without a single complaint.
" Emery stepped closer. "And then suddenly, within the span of a week, you 'discover' forged certificates with my signature?
Documents I never created for wines I never authenticated? "
"You're delusional."
"Am I? Or am I too close to the truth?" Emery's voice rose. "Who paid you? Who wanted me destroyed badly enough to compromise your precious reputation?"
"Emery—" Riley touched her arm, a warning.
But Emery couldn't stop. "You humiliated me in front of an entire auction house. Posted it on social media. Made me unemployable. A man with your reputation didn't need to do all that just to fire an employee. You were making a statement. Making sure everyone in the industry knew I was finished."
Vanessa had gone pale, her eyes darting between Harold and Emery. "We should—"
"Enough," Harold said coldly. "You forged authentication documents. I have the evidence. End of story."
"Evidence that someone paid you to create."
"That's slander." Harold's face flushed with anger—or was it fear? "And if you continue making these baseless accusations, you'll find yourself facing legal consequences."
"Truth is a defense against slander," Sandy said from her position by the bar, her cop voice fully engaged now.
Harold's gaze snapped to her. "Are you threatening me, Chief?"
"I'm stating a legal fact. If what Emery says is true, it's not slander."
"It's not true. It's the desperate fantasy of someone who can't accept responsibility for her own actions.
" Harold turned toward the door. "I suppose desperation makes people believe all sorts of things.
" He glanced at Riley. "Your family would know something about that, wouldn't they?
With your mother's trial coming up, and all. "
Grant moved forward, but Sandy held up a hand. "It’s best if you leave. Now."
"With pleasure. This establishment clearly has questionable judgment in its staffing choices.
" Harold pushed past Erin toward the exit but paused to look back at Emery.
"A word of advice? Stop making wild accusations you can't prove.
My lawyers will be very interested to hear about your conspiracy theories if you keep spreading them around the valley. "
As they reached the door, Vanessa looked back at Emery, her expression tortured. "I'm sorry," she mouthed silently before Harold grabbed her arm and pulled her outside.
After they left, the silence in the tasting room was deafening. Emery realized her hands were shaking, her breath coming in short gasps. She'd completely lost control, said things she shouldn't have said, made accusations she couldn't prove.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have—"
"Don't apologize," Riley said firmly. "That man is guilty of something."
"But I just made everything worse." Emery sank onto a barstool, tears prickling her eyes. "That interview was supposed to be my chance to control the narrative, and I just gave him ammunition to make me look unstable and vindictive. Now he's threatening to sue me for slander."
Sandy came around the bar, her expression thoughtful. "Actually, that was very interesting."
"Interesting how?" Grant asked.
"The way he reacted. For someone who claims he did nothing wrong, he was awfully defensive. And threatening legal action that quickly?" Sandy pulled out her phone. "That's not the behavior of an innocent man. That's someone trying to shut you up before you dig any deeper."
"You believe me?" Emery looked up, hardly daring to hope.
"I believe something's not right. And I believe Harold Pemberton's reaction was completely disproportionate to your accusations—unless those accusations hit close to home.
" Sandy tapped a few times on her cell screen before tucking her phone in her back pocket.
"And did you see Vanessa's face? That woman knows something.
I'm off duty, but I have some friends in fraud investigation who might be interested in hearing about this.
Can't promise anything, but if someone did pay Harold off, there'll be a paper trail somewhere. "
"I'm texting Bryson and Devon. They should know what just happened,” Grant said.
"Don't," Emery said quickly. "Please. I've already caused enough trouble."
"This isn't trouble," Erin said gently. "This is defending yourself."
Riley pulled Emery into a hug. "You're family now. And family protects each other. Even when—especially when—we lose our tempers with people who deserve it."
Emery felt something break loose in her chest—relief, gratitude, the overwhelming sensation of not being alone anymore.
For three months, she'd carried the weight of Harold's betrayal by herself.
Now, surrounded by people who believed her, who were willing to fight for her, she finally felt like she might survive this after all.
She just hoped her outburst wouldn't destroy everything the Boones were trying to build.
The Rusted Rail looked different at happy hour than it had three months ago when Devon had found Emery there, drowning her sorrows.
Now, the space was packed with after-work locals, the noise level rising with each round of drinks, and the jukebox playing classic rock just loud enough to cover conversations people didn't want overheard.
Devon spotted Gabe in the back corner booth, nursing a bourbon.
Bryson slid in across from him while Devon took the seat next to Gabe, leaving room for Mason, who'd texted he was running five minutes late—Mason was always running late.
He was either running errands for Sandy or giving his kids one more hug and kiss.
"Thanks for coming," Gabe said, his voice rough around the edges. "I know it's last-minute."
"You sounded like you needed to talk," Bryson said. "What's going on?"
Gabe stared into his empty glass. "The will reading was... intense."