Page 61 of His Daughter

"Graham."

He stopped and turned.

"Stay available."

His eyes held mine for a beat. "Of course." He adjusted his glasses and left.

The day ground on. Julian and I sat in my office with the raw data spread across the desk — Caine's curated version on the left, the real numbers on the right. The gap between them was staggering. The media company Caine presented was worth two billion. The media company that actually existed was worth a fraction of that.

"The podcast network," Julian said, leaning over a spreadsheet. "He's double-counting. The same sponsor — this energy drink company — appears as a separate line item on six different shows. It's one deal repackaged to look like six."

"And the streaming platform?"

"A hundred and sixty-two thousand subscribers. Not four hundred thousand. He's counting free trial users who never converted." Julian sat back and rubbed his face. "Dec, this is fraud. Not an oversight. Not aggressive accounting. This is cooked."

I stared at the numbers. The question that kept circling: How did this get past us? I wasn't ready to go there. I needed the full picture first.

Julian stayed late. I could see his office light through the glass wall, his sleeves rolled, his sandy hair pushed in every direction. Nolan left at seven without a word.

I looked at the clock on my desk. It was 9:14 p.m. The Vanguard floor was empty except for Julian's light and the cleaning crew.

I had somewhere to be. I had my girls waiting at home. I didn't correct the thought. I picked up my jacket and left.

The elevator opened onto the penthouse. The lights were low. Mrs. Parrish was in the hallway, pulling on her coat.

"Mr. Hale." She buttoned the top button. "They're in the nursery."

"Thank you, Mrs. Parrish."

She nodded, picked up her bag, and left.

I walked down the hallway. My jacket over my arm, my tie loosened, the weight of the day still on my shoulders. I passed the kitchen counter. Three romance novels were stacked beside Thea's laptop.

The nursery door was open. I stopped in the doorway.

Thea was in the rocking chair. Lena was in her arms, drowsy but not asleep. Thea was singing — low and tuneless. The lamp cast a warm circle of light around them. The room smelled like baby powder and the lavender on Thea's skin.

I crossed the room, leaned down, and pressed my lips to Lena's forehead. I straightened, looked at Thea, and kissed her.

She pulled back. One eyebrow lifted. "What was that for?"

"Come on. I need this." I sat on the arm of the rocking chair, close enough that my hip pressed against her shoulder. "I've had quite a day."

She shifted Lena in her arms. The baby's eyes were closing. "What happened?"

I loosened my tie the rest of the way, pulled it over my head, and dropped it on the changing table. "We found problems with an acquisition that was supposed to happen today."

"What kind of problems?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Inflated revenue. We would have lost billions."

Thea was still rocking Lena. "So the deal is off?"

"The deal is paused. We're pulling the real data now."

“And the man?"

I sighed. "Nothing happens for now. What I can't figure out is how it got past us."