When I pushed through the office lobby doors, everything felt too polished, like a place where messes weren't supposed to happen.
Mark was waiting near the front desk.
"They pulled reimbursement records," he said as I approached. "Hotel bookings. Wellness claims. Several fancy gifts."
I swallowed. "All tied to Alyssa?"
"They matched it all to her vendor profile," Mark said grimly.
"Texts?"
"Oh yes," he confirmed. "Expense reports, vendor logs, even his company phone records. HR's got everything."
"All tied to Alyssa?"
He jerked his chin toward the glass-walled conference room.
Through it, I saw Cole — standing, pacing, talking with his hands like he was giving a pitch. HR sat across from him, impassive. Darren, the CEO, looked exhausted. At the end of the table, a VP I'd only seen at the holiday party sat watching like a judge.
Then the door swung open.
Alyssa marched in, ponytail swinging, phone in hand, voice already raised. She didn't bother to knock.
