The Prenup Evaluation That Ended Five Years Chapter 07

Two weeks later.

The top floor of the Crestmont Hotel had been converted into a banquet hall.

The Whitmore Group was hosting the bidding dinner for its billion-dollar landmark project.

A ten-foot champagne tower rose from the center of the room.

My gown was midnight blue, custom-cut, with a train that swept the floor behind me.

I held a crystal glass of champagne.

Material suppliers and real estate heavyweights circled me, one after another.

Business cards kept coming.

“Miss Vale, your design work is in a class of its own.”

“We’d love to find a way to collaborate.”

I collected the cards and set them on a passing tray.

“Thank you. For specifics, you’ll want to talk to the Whitmore Group’s business team.”

At the far edge of the banquet hall, half hidden by a column, stood Gavin.

He wore an old suit that didn’t quite fit and clutched an invitation with dog-eared edges.

He’d paid a blacklisted vendor two grand for it.

The client had already sued his company. Every account was frozen.

He needed even the smallest subcontract on the Whitmore project just to keep cash moving.

He pushed through the crowd.

He cut straight to me and blocked my path.

Conversations around us died. Every eye turned to him.

Gavin didn’t notice. Or didn’t care.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Tessa. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Come on, just stop all this and come home.”

He pulled a red velvet box from his pocket.

He flipped it open. Inside sat a diamond ring with a tiny stone, barely a third of a carat.

“I’ll get rid of Sloane. Tomorrow.”

“We’ll get married.”

“I’ll put your name on the house. First thing.”

“Just get Whitmore to throw me the contract for the project’s exterior paint.”

“We’ll start over. It’ll be good this time. I promise.”

I looked down at the ring.

He’d bought it three years ago from a discount case at a strip mall jeweler.

I pulled my hand free.

“Mr. Mercer.”

“This is a Whitmore Group event.”

“You really have no shame left, do you?”

I turned and walked to the control station at the front of the hall.

It was wired to the massive LED screen at the center of the room.

I pulled the silver USB drive from my evening bag.

I plugged it in.

I opened the folder.

The screen lit up.

Every original design for the Downtown Revitalization Project filled the screen.

Timestamps glowed in the lower right corner of each file.

Then the display cut to the version Sloane had submitted to the client.

Red lines traced every section where the two sets of drawings matched.

Ninety percent. Copied.

The other ten percent was the work Sloane had changed, with every structural load calculation wrong.

A murmur swept through the hall.

I picked up the microphone.

“Mr. Mercer.”

“You stole another person’s work to hand your mistress a title she didn’t earn.”

“You wrecked the project and drove your company to the edge of bankruptcy.”

“And now you’re standing here trying to trade a share of a mortgaged house for a subcontract worth hundreds of millions.”

“The audacity is staggering.”

I stepped closer to the long table.

“According to your mistress’s Premarital Depreciation Worksheet, your net worth just dropped into the negative.”

“After five years, you should be thanking me for not billing you for breach of contract.”

The color flooded Gavin’s face.

He lunged for the microphone.

“Shut up!”

“Turn that off!”

A hand caught his arm.

Elliot stepped out from the VIP section.

Black suit. Custom-tailored.

He took my wrist and slipped an emerald bracelet onto it.

The cool stones settled against my skin.

Elliot turned to the room.

“Allow me to make an introduction.”

“This is Tessa. My fiancée.”

“As for Mercer Design Studio and its suspected commercial fraud, the Whitmore Group’s legal department has compiled all the evidence.”

“Ten minutes ago, we filed a formal report with the financial crimes unit.”

Gavin stepped back.

His back hit the table holding the champagne tower.

Glasses wobbled and toppled onto the carpet.

Glass shattered across the floor.

The banquet hall doors opened.

Two uniformed officers walked in.

“Which one of you is Gavin?”