Chapter 7 - The Final AuditThe holding cell at the municipal detention center smelled of bleach, damp concrete, and despair.
When Grant Halston walked into the visiting booth behind the thick glass partition, he looked unrecognizable. His designer cashmere sweater was replaced by an orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on his frame. His hair was uncombed, and the arrogant, commanding posture that had defined his entire public life had completely collapsed into a sullen, bitter slouch.
He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver. I picked up mine on the other side.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. We simply stared at each other through the smudged glass.
“You destroyed everything,” Grant said, his voice raspy and devoid of its old thunder. “My career, my reputation, my name… everything I built.”
“You didn't build anything, Grant,” I said, my voice steady and completely devoid of anger. “You inherited a brand, you stole a company’s operating capital, and you built a cage out of intimidation. I simply unlocked the door.”
Grant slammed his fist against the glass, but the sound was muffled and pathetic in the sterile visiting room.
“They won’t let you keep it!” he snarled, his eyes bulging with impotent fury. “The board, the investors—without a man at the helm, the stock will plummet! You don't know how to run a multi-billion-dollar enterprise!”
“I didn't keep books for small medical offices, Grant,” I said quietly, leaning closer to the glass. “I audited them. I built the financial models your entire corporate structure has been standing on for the last decade. And as for the board—they elected me chairwoman yesterday morning by a unanimous vote.”
Grant froze. The last vestige of color drained from his face, leaving his skin an ashen gray.
“You… you’re the principal shareholder,” he whispered, the realization finally breaking through his delusions of grandeur.
“I always was,” I replied.
May you like
I placed my phone back on its cradle, stood up from the metal stool, and smoothed down the lapels of my tailored charcoal blazer.
Grant began shouting something behind the glass, pressing his face against the partition, but his voice was completely drowned out by the heavy steel door sliding shut behind me.
