“There’s more,” Rebecca said quietly.
Richard had manipulated quarterly performance reports to hide the missing funds.
I shut the folder.
“Preserve the evidence. Notify the audit committee. Have outside counsel review everything.”
Rebecca paused.
“Margaret, do you want Richard informed who requested the meeting?”
“No.”
On Sunday evening, Richard telephoned me himself.
“Listen, Margaret,” he said. “Vanessa tells me you’re upset about dinner. I’m a generous man, so I’ll offer you something special.”
I said nothing.
“Monday morning. Nine o’clock. Come to headquarters. I’ll arrange a cleaning interview. If you apologize properly, perhaps I’ll even recommend you.”
Someone laughed behind him. I recognized Vanessa.
“Thank you, Richard,” I replied.
“For what?”
“For confirming you’ll be there.”
He chuckled.
“Wear something appropriate.”
I ended the conversation and turned to Rebecca.
“Schedule the meeting for nine.”
She smiled slightly.
“Executive conference room?”
“The main boardroom.”
PART 3: MONDAY MORNING, THE REAL BOSS ARRIVED
At 8:55 Monday morning, Richard entertained twelve senior managers in the executive boardroom with stories about the weekend.
“You should have seen her,” he laughed. “Cheap dress, ancient car, pretending she was too proud to clean toilets.”
Several executives exchanged uneasy glances.
Richard continued.
“My daughter’s future mother-in-law. Completely penniless. I told her to come today for an interview.”
The doors opened at precisely nine.
Rebecca entered, followed by two independent auditors, outside counsel, and three board members.
I came in last.
Richard stopped smiling.
“What is she doing here?”
Nobody responded.
I approached the head of the table. Richard moved toward me.
“Margaret, this is a private executive meeting. The cleaning department is downstairs.”
Rebecca broke the silence.
“Mr. Whitmore, you’re speaking to Margaret Collins, founder, controlling shareholder, and chairwoman of Collins Industrial Holdings.”
Richard blinked and gave an anxious laugh.
“That’s impossible.”
I set my handbag down.
“Sit down, Richard.”
He remained standing.
Rebecca projected our ownership records onto the conference screen. His face went pale.
“You… you own Collins?”
“For thirty-two years.”
He clutched a chair back.
“Margaret, surely we can explain Friday night. It was a misunderstanding.”
“The dinner isn’t why this meeting was called.”
His expression shifted.
I gestured to the auditors.
“Please begin.”
For twenty minutes, Richard watched his carefully maintained reputation unravel.
The auditors showed verified invoices, hidden financial connections, unauthorized transactions, and manipulated performance reports.
He interrupted repeatedly.
“Those transactions were legitimate!”
Outside counsel explained the inconsistencies calmly. Rebecca then displayed emails supplied by the cooperating accountant.
