13. Noelle
NOELLE
"Did you get all that?" I speak into my phone as my taxi barrels toward the airport.
Graham played it exactly as I'd hoped. It was almost eerie. He was so giddy at my text that he booked the villa an hour later and was already aboard his private jet to France that same night. He tried to get me to come with him, but I convinced him it wasn't smart to be seen together. He agreed.
I waited until the next morning to board a commercial flight. The six-hour jetlag made me briefly question my decision to handle this personally when I landed at Charles de Gaulle. I briefed Edward on my arrival, and he had me set up at a Hilton beside the airport.
After a few hours of sleep, I ate, then prepared to catch the train into the city. Edward and I reviewed the plan. If Graham took my phone, I'd reach him over Meet in an incognito tab.
By eight, I set out to meet him. The night went as planned.
Graham suggested keeping our phones away—to avoid distractions, he said, and the possibility that Edward might be tracking me.
I knew he just wanted the phone gone, but I obliged.
To get the call running, I asked for a drink, then opened Meet in an incognito tab and dialed Edward.
He joined immediately. I hit record, sent an in-chat message for him to stay muted, and buried the tab among the dozen others already open on the browser.
When Graham returned with our drinks, I showed him my amended data, adjusted to mirror his inflated projections.
He suggested looping in Jordan & Jordan to lend further credibility to the numbers, even though it pushed the budget up another ten million.
I asked why, more out of disdain for his unwavering greed than actual curiosity.
Graham said having the consulting firm attached would legitimize the project to the board.
When I pointed out that Edward had already brought J&J in, he insisted that since he was now running the project, previous contacts no longer applied.
I obliged. That brought the total to three hundred and ten million for Cartly. Graham nodded at the updated figures and asked me to send the file. I forwarded the slides.
With that settled, it was time for the paper trail. Graham handed me a flash drive. I inserted it into my laptop.
It contained an elaborate mind map of his entire operation.
The sheer architecture of it—the layers, the routing, the carefully constructed distance between himself and the money—was almost impressive.
There was no way for him to see what was on my screen, so I started narrating aloud, asking questions.
Graham was more than willing to answer every single one. He looked proud of himself.
Before I left, he tried to get me to stay. To rekindle things in a place that held so many memories for us.
"Pull this off, and all is forgiven," I told him, gathering my things. "I'll be yours again, and we can ride off into the sunset together."
He beamed. "Watch me."
I flag down the first taxi I see as I make my way out of the villa, laptop shut and back in my purse, phone back in my hands. That's when I call Edward.
"Riveting performance," comes his voice. "I almost believed you'd switched sides."
"Maybe I'll move to LA and pursue a film career."
"Maybe." He chuckles. "But let's close this—" His voice cuts off. When it returns, he sounds different. "I've just got an email."
"What about?"
"Graham has convened the board for an emergency meeting. He's CC'd Vanessa and the senior managers."
"He's making a play already?"
"All the better for us." A beat. "When's your return flight?"
"Midnight."
"Fuck." His voice drops. "What's the time there? I think he means to go on the offensive before you land. The meeting is at ten a.m."
I pull my phone away from my ear briefly to glance at the clock. "It's nine forty-nine, and that doesn't make sense. He's stuck here too."
"He's not flying commercial, Noelle. He could be heading to the hangar right now. He has a two-hour headstart at least."
Fuck.
"Please go as fast as you legally can." I drop into the back seat of my Uber, pull out my laptop, and set my bag beside me. "Just follow the map." My driver nods and faces the road.
It's ten twenty-five. The meeting is already in progress. I'd managed to sleep on the return flight—Edward had bumped me to first class before boarding, though it would have been more useful on my first flight out of the United States. Barring some turbulence, I got some solid hours of shut-eye.
The drive to the Whitmore building should take twenty-five minutes from the airport. I say a quiet prayer that Edward isn't getting slaughtered on his own in there.
Once my laptop boots, a chain of emails from Edward loads in. One contains a Meet link. I dig my Bluetooth earphones out of my purse, connect them, and click the link.
Graham's voice fills my ears immediately.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, having seen these numbers—and you know they're mouthwatering—" Scattered laughter. "—I'm afraid we have a problem."
Murmuring.
"My brother, the CEO, did not want to bring this to the board. He wanted to develop it in-house, then offer you a buy-in at a premium. With the company retaining the majority of Cartly's shares, of course."
Dead silence. Then comes Thaddeus's unmistakable baritone. "Is this true, son?"
"Yes," He answers.
The room erupts.
The Whitmore building is already visible through the windshield. We just have to clear the roundabout, merge into the next lane, and we're there.
Or I could run across the road like a maniac.
I weigh the consequences of jaywalking, then abandon the thought. At the same time, Arthur's voice rises above the din and quiets the room.
"People. Let's not come to fisticuffs just yet. Only hours ago, Noelle proved Graham's data was bogus at best."
Graham clears his throat. "Thank you, Arthur.
I'd like to inform the board that her data significantly underrepresented the scale of this project due to my brother's influence.
She reached out to me with proof of that, and together we worked through the numbers last night.
My initial estimate of three hundred million was actually conservative.
We arrived at a slightly higher figure of three hundred and ten. "
The Uber inches past the roundabout and into the final lane.
"Pull to the curb," I say, leaning forward between the front seats.
"Lady, you'd be slower on foot. We'll be there in a few minutes."
He isn't wrong. I lean back and pack my laptop away, too tense to keep listening. Three minutes later, he pulls into the Whitmore Holdings lot. I thank him and bolt.
I burst through the conference room doors, and every head turns in my direction instantly.
"And here's Noelle to corroborate my data." Graham seizes the moment, recovering fast and masking his surprise behind a smile. We lock eyes and I smile back. His doesn't quite reach his eyes.
I walk towards the projector screen table and set my purse down on the table. "I apologize for my appearance, ladies and gentlemen. I've come straight from the airport."
Scattered murmurs, but no one moves to stop me.
"I believe Graham has already shown you the data."
"I have." He steps beside me.
"Did the CEO raise any objections?" My eyes find Edward across the table.
"None." Graham grins. "You can't argue with facts."
"True." Edward's mouth tilts in a smirk. "I wanted the moment to be yours. You deserve this."
Graham's grin falters slightly as he looks between us, parsing the words. I open my laptop and connect to the projector.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to provide additional data to support the CFO's numbers."
Graham's smile returns, full and satisfied. He glances around the table for approving looks. He gets one from Thaddeus. The rest of the board seems more interested in the drama unfolding before them.
I navigate to the recordings folder and hit play.
For the next hour, the room goes cold and quiet as the board listens to everything: Graham and I scheming to inflate Cartly's cost, the proposed two-hundred-million split, the J&J addition, and the full mechanics of how he intended to launder his cut.
Then comes the part where Graham asked me to get back together with him.
I don't look at Vanessa. I don't have to.
I hear the sound of her chair scraping across the floor and the sound of the conference room door opening and shutting behind her.
No one calls after her. Every eye in the room is on Graham—except Beatrice, who stares with quiet, particular fury at Thaddeus, and Edward, who watches the whole thing with a grin he isn't bothering to conceal.
When the recording ends, Graham grabs my arm. I can feel him trembling.
"We had a deal."
I lean in close. "You know what they say about making deals with the devil.”