Checkmate In The Ballroom
Look at her up there, completely flustered, cant even string a sentence together. How did she ever land an Executive VP role?
Her husband, Owen, at the main table? His face is black. Hes probably going to file for divorce tonight.
What do you call that? Its a precision strike. If you cant handle the heat, stay out of the corporate kitchen.
I stood on the stage, the rising chorus of snickers and whispers washing over me, holding the thin sheaf of papers that had been swapped for my actual presentation.
I silenced my phone and tossed the worthless script onto the side of the lectern.
Did they really think ten years of industry experience was something I read off a teleprompter?
I leaned into the microphone and smiled at the sea of murmuring faces.
Since the script is gone, why dont we talk about the companys dirty laundry for the past yearspecifically, those few questionable business expenses some people have quietly run through the general ledger.
1
The buzzing chorus of laughter hammered at my ears.
My fingers tightened around the few sheets of A4 paper. They didn't hold the annual financial review; they held a transcript from a children's showA Coloring Book Rhapsody, if I recall correctly.
It was a perfectly executed maneuver.
At the front, at the main VIP table, Sienna Cole was clutching her mouth, shaking with unrestrained glee.
Next to her, my husband, Owen Price, the Vice President of Sales, had his head bowed so low he looked ready to dive under the mahogany.
He was humiliated.
Not because someone had targeted his wife, but because he believed I, his wife, was making a spectacle of myself, embarrassing him, the high-flying VP.
The projector screen, meant to display our revenue growth charts, was a mess of scrambled code. Clearly, my USB drive had been compromised too.
Three hundred people in the ballroom. Six hundred eyes. All waiting for me to crack.
A few ambitious junior staff had already raised their phones, ready to capture this spectacular corporate failure for the company group chat or a viral clip.
Ms. Nash, whats the holdup?
Dave Miller, the Administrative Manager and a known lapdog of Siennas clique, called out with a venomous sweetness.
Are the words too big? Do you need me to come up and sound them out for you?
Another wave of roaring laughter.
Owen finally lifted his head, his features tight with open disgust.
He waved a frantic hand signalGet down, now. Youre making a scene.
In the past, I might have panicked. I would have felt my eyes sting, fumbled off the stage, and hidden in the ladies room to cry.
I came from Finance. I was a numbers person. I was articulate with spreadsheets, not people. Not like Sienna, who was a master manipulator, charming clients and confusing the executives in equal measure.
But today was different.
I had endured this for three months, precisely for this moment.
I crumpled the childrens script into a tight sphere. With a flick of my wrist, I lobbed the paper ball. It sailed over the first row and landed with a distinct plop right in the center of Owens bowl of lobster bisque.
Silence hit the room.
Owen shot up, wiping a smear of creamy pink soup from his cheek, his eyes wide and ready to detonate.
I didn't give him the chance.
I tapped the microphone twice with my index finger.
Sshhh
The sharp feedback whine made everyone wince and cover their ears.
The chaos evaporated.
Since none of us want to listen to platitudes, lets talk about something a little more stimulating.
I braced both hands on the lectern, my gaze a deliberate, slow-motion scanner sweeping across the faces at the main table.
Ms. Cole, I heard you closed a three-hundred-million-dollar deal in Europe last month?
Sienna froze, then puffed up her chest, a smug grin replacing her shock.
Youre well informed, Ms. Nash. But thats Sales territory. An internal audit specialist shouldnt worry so much about other departments; it causes wrinkles.
Her little cheer squad snickered again.
I joined them, my smile icy.
Youre right. Im in Audit. Thats why Im curious: what kind of client requires a two-hundred-and-eighty-thousand-dollar public relations expenditure on your corporate card at a high-end designer boutiquean expenditure, mind you, for which we have no invoice?
The smile solidified on Siennas face.
And how is it, Ms. Cole, that the merchant code for the same expensethough labeled gift purchasing in our systemshows up in our transfer records as a five-star couples-only resort in Paris?
The audience erupted in a collective gasp.
The people who had been filming my meltdown now swiveled their phones toward Sienna.
The look of naked guilt on her face was far more entertaining than any childrens script could ever be.
You... youre lying!
She stumbled to her feet, her finger trembling as it pointed at me. Vivian Nash, this is slander! I will sue you!
Sue me?
I took a voice-activated recorder from my pocket, spinning it once between my thumb and forefinger.
On the 14th of last month, at nine in the evening, you submitted a car service receipt to the reimbursement system for a trip from the office to the Peninsula Hotel, total fare: a hundred and eighty dollars.
But I have a recording from Owens vehicle dashcam that suggests you didn't go to the hotel at all. You went to the suburban villa that belongs to Vice President Price.
This time, it was Owens turn to lose his composure.
He was still wiping the bisque from his face, and his napkin fell to the floor, forgotten.
Owen and I have been married for seven years.
In those seven years, I was the rock. I helped him climb from junior accountant to Vice President. To avoid any appearance of conflict, I volunteered to run the most thankless, grueling internal audit unit.
He told me the company was preparing for an IPO and that he needed me, his most trusted person, to protect the perimeter.
I believed him.
I spent my nights digging through the accounts, plugging the financial leaks. And what was he doing?
I was protecting our territory; he was helping another woman buy designer bags.
That suburban villa? We bought it as our retirement home. Only he and I had the keys.
Last week, when I went to clean it, I found an earring wedged deep in the sofa cushion.
I recognized it immediately. Sienna had flaunted it on social media: a limited-edition piece from a major brand. The only pair in the city.
Owen was terrified.
He rushed over to Sienna, shoving her back into her seat. Then he spun around, yelling at me. Vivian! Are you drunk? This is the Annual Gala! The Chairman is here! What the hell are you doing? Stop this insanity!
Im not drunk.
I stared straight into his frantic eyes. Owen, I havent even had a toast yet. How could I be?
Security! Where is Security!
Owen roared toward the doors. Drag this crazy woman out of here! Shes mentally unstable!
No one moved.
Because Mr. Robert Harrington, the Chairman, was seated at the head table, a glass of Cabernet in his hand, watching the entire spectacle with an unreadable expression.
Mr. Harrington hates dishonesty more than incompetence.
Until he gave the word, the head of security wouldnt dare lift a finger.
Seeing no help coming, Owen rolled up his sleeves and charged the stage himself.
Get down here, now!
His face, contorted with rage and fear, looked nothing like the polished, charming VP he usually portrayed.
I watched the man I had loved for seven years charge at me like a cornered, rabid dog.
Owen Price, if you touch me, I will upload the evidence of your five-million-dollar corporate fund embezzlement via futures trading to the All-Hands company email list.
Owens feet jammed hard on the carpet.
He stopped barely six feet away, his entire body rigid, his face bloodless.
You... what did you say?
Five million.
I held up five fingers, waving them slightly in front of him.
And that was just last quarters deficit. This month, to cover that hole, you privately approved contracts with three unqualified vendors put forward by Sienna. How much in kickbacks did you clear on that? A million? Two?
Owens Adams apple bobbed violently.
Vivian, lets go home and talk about this
His voice softened, pleading. There are hundreds of people here. Show me some respect.
Respect?
I laughed, a sharp, cold sound. You talk about respect? Did you respect me when you swapped my keynote for a childs script?
That... that was a misunderstanding!
Misunderstanding my ass!
I slammed the voice recorder hard onto the stage floor.
This recorder holds more than just Siennas overtime confession. It holds the complete audio of you two plotting in the break roomhow to squeeze me out and how to pin that five-million-dollar fraud on me.
Owen, Im done playing your wife.
Today, at this celebration, you two are my sacrificial lambs.
A dead silence descended upon the room.
Even the servers pouring wine froze, their carafes suspended in mid-air.
This is the corporate world. The same people who were just laughing at me were now shrinking in their seats, terrified the fire would spread.
They weren't afraid of me; they were afraid of the ledger book in my head.
I ran Internal Audit for three years. I knew where every single penny in this company went.
I kept quiet before for the sake of the Chairman, for the companys reputation.
But today, reputation was a luxury I was willing to sacrifice.
Who else?
My eyes drifted to Dave Miller, the Administrative Manager who had been the loudest voice of ridicule.
Dave was trying to subtly edge himself under the table.
Dave Miller, why are you hiding?
I called his name.
Dave jerked, scrambling back to his feet, his face sickly pale. V-Vivian... Ms. Nash, Im sorry, Ive had too much to drink. I misspoke...
Too much to drink?
I nodded slowly. Good. Alcohol loosens the tongue. Why dont you tell everyone here why the office chairs your department purchased were billed at twenty-eight hundred dollars a piece when the market value is eight hundred?
Daves forehead was instantly slick with cold sweat.
That... thats a brand premium...
Which brand?
I pressed the attack. Was it a counterfeit brand with a sticker slapped on it, or was it your brother-in-laws shell factory?
People near Dave quickly shifted their chairs away.
You purchased two hundred chairs. Thats a difference of four hundred thousand dollars. Did you keep that money all to yourself, or did you split it with anyone else?
My gaze flickered, seemingly by accident, toward the VP of HR.
The VP of HR, who had been clinking glasses with Dave moments before, was now sitting rigid, staring straight ahead.
Vivian Nash! Thats enough!
A booming voice came from the main table.
It was Victor Shaw, the VP of Operations. He was Owens closest ally and Siennas unofficial mentor. They were a company Iron Triangle that had been running roughshod for years.
This is the companys biggest night! Are you trying to start a witch hunt? Do you have any sense of the bigger picture?
He pointed his finger at me. Even if Owen and Sienna have made minor mistakes, it was for the sake of the business! You cant sanitize every corner! If you do this, who will risk their necks for the company in the future?
Risk their necks?
I smiled at Victor Shaw.
You, Fatty Shaw, dont get to talk about risk and loyalty.
If Owen is greedy, you are rotten. Rotten to the core.
I turned my back on him and faced the dark projector screen.
The image was in my mind.
Last year, during our holiday sale, we processed a million orders. You, as VP of Operations, single-handedly switched our shipping carrier to a logistics firm owned by your family back home.
The result? Backlog, lost packages, massive delays. Our customer complaint rate soared by three hundred percent.
The company spent twenty million dollars on goodwill refunds to quell the customer outrage.
And that family logistics company? It was conveniently dissolved afterward. And you, Victor, upgraded your sedan to a Range Rover. Am I wrong?
Youre spewing lies! That was an act of God!
An act of God?
I scoffed. Was there a flood at your familys farm, or did your brains flood out? That logistics company had three thousand dollars in registered capital and no proper warehouse. Were you blind, or was your heart black when you signed that contract?
Where is the proof? Ill sue you for defamation! Victor was still defiant.
The proof is with your wife.
I tossed the quiet bomb into the room.
What? Victor looked utterly bewildered.
You bought the new car, and you took a mistress. Did you think your wife was ignorant? Last month, she came to me in Audit. I gave her a copy of that logistics contract.
Based on the timing, the legal separation papers should have reached your doorstep right about now.
Victor Shaws knees buckled. He collapsed back into his chair, the heavy wooden frame protesting loudly.
The whole room was silent again.
In less than ten minutes, I had taken down two Vice Presidents, one Department Manager, and a sales star.
It was a performance that would be legendary in corporate circles.
My gaze finally settled on the Chairman, Mr. Harrington.
The silent captain, who finally set down his glass.
Harrington, in his early fifties, with silver hair, had eyes as sharp as an eagle.
He didn't look angry. In fact, there was a trace of grim amusement.
Vivian, he said, his voice deep and measured. How much more do you have?
He asked the direct question.
I gave the direct answer.
If you mean whats on the USB drive, about two gigabytes. If you mean whats in my head, I could go for three days.
Harrington nodded, tapping his finger lightly on the table.
Since everyone is here, lets get everything on the table at once.
With that statement, Owen and Siennas final shred of hope evaporated.
They had been counting on Harrington to prioritize the company's reputation, stop the public spectacle, and handle it quietly.
But Harrington was a ruthless pragmatist.
This wasn't just a purge; it was a scorched-earth cleansing.
All right.
I took a deep breath.
Since the Chairman has asked, well continue.
I shifted my attention to Mr. Ken Lee, the Director of R&D.
Lee was generally considered a harmless, amiable man, smiling at everyone, well-liked.
But now, he refused to meet my eyes.
Mr. Lee, dont look down; your crown might fall off.
I offered a dry jest.
Your R&D department burned through forty million dollars this year, supposedly developing a proprietary AI intelligent algorithm.
But I heard that the core code was simply an open-source project you found on GitHub and slightly modified?
Forty million, Mr. Lee. You could have hired a world-class team for two million. Did you pocket the remaining thirty-eight million to trade Bitcoin?
Lees sweat was streaming down his temples.
Ms. Nash, you dont understand technology. That was secondary development...
Secondary developmentmeaning you swapped their logo for ours?
I cut him off without mercy. And that Bitcoin account? You used the companys servers to mine for it, didnt you? Our electric bill went up by six figures a month. Did you think I was blind?
Lee sagged completely.
Wherever my gaze landed, silence followed.
But the true heavy hitters were the ones behind Owen and Sienna. Their actions weren't just about embezzlement; they were about asset stripping and preparation for a major secession.
Owen.
I looked back at my still-reeling husband.
Did you think that just paying back the five million would make this all go away?
Owens head snapped up, his eyes filled with sheer terror.
You... what are you talking about?
Last Friday, you and Sienna met with Mr. Richard Zhang of our competitor, Vertex Solutions. You weren't discussing a partnership. You were selling our companys core client list to them for twenty million dollars. Correct?
Even Mr. Harringtons expression hardened at that.
Embezzlement is an internal conflict; selling trade secrets is treason.
That was the line.
Youre spewing lies!
Owen jumped up, genuinely desperate now. This wasn't just about losing his job; it was about prison time and being blacklisted forever.
I have proof!
He pointed at me, his finger shaking. Vivian, this is revenge! Youre doing this because I cheated on you! You want to ruin me because of your wounded pride!
He was attempting to drag the narrative into private melodrama, hoping to undermine my credibility.
Dont believe her, anyone! Shes a crazy woman! Shes always been paranoid, installing GPS trackers on my car!
Sienna piped up, desperate to help. She is! Ms. Nash, I know you dont like me, but you cant play with the companys interests! Vertex is our biggest rival! We would never do something like that!
The man and woman, working together in desperate harmony, had a chilling effect.
Whispers started circulating in the ballroom.
She does sound unhinged.
Selling the client list is a federal crime. Price isnt that stupid, is he?
Is Vivian having a breakdown?
The tide of opinion began to waver.
This is the fragility of human nature: people are often more willing to believe the simple, dramatic explanationa scorned wifes revengethan a complex, high-level conspiracy.
Owen seized on the momentum, his eyes turning malicious.
He lunged for the stage. This time, he was fast, and he grabbed a half-empty red wine bottle from a nearby table.
Shut up, you bitch!
He was snarling, his stance suggesting he truly intended to smash the bottle across my head.
4
The red wine bottle loomed large in front of me.
A large hand shot out from the side, gripping Owens wrist like a steel vice.
It was Mr. Harringtons driver and security detail, a silent, imposing man who was always nearby.
Mr. Price, youve had too much. The guards voice was flat, but the force in his grip made Owens face twist in pain.
The bottle clanged onto the carpet, rolling a few times before stopping near Harringtons feet.
Harrington didn't even glance at the bottle. His eyes were fixed on me.
Vivian, continue.
Owen, still restrained by the guard, struggled and cursed, sounding like a common thug.
Crazy bitch! You have no evidence! Youre just jealous of me and Sienna! You just want to destroy us!
Evidence? I reached under the lectern and pulled out a USB drive.
Everyone is wondering whats actually on this drive.
I plugged it into the laptop on the stage.
They thought by deleting my presentation and replacing it with code errors, the job was done.
Unfortunately, those of us who manage the money have a habit: we back things up. And we hide the most important files in the most inconspicuous places.
I opened a hidden folder and typed in a complex, lengthy password.
The scrambled code on the big screen vanished.
It was replaced by a grainy surveillance video feed.
The camera was shaky, the angle oddly low, as if it were hidden inside a decorative potted plant.
The location: a corporate meeting room.
The time: 3:00 PM last Friday.
Three people were visible: Owen, Sienna Cole, and a man in his fifties.
It was Richard Zhang, the CEO of Vertex Solutions.
Sienna took a USB drive from her purse and handed it to Zhang.
Zhang took it, plugged it into his laptop, and the screens reflection illuminated his satisfied face.
He then pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen.
Almost immediately, Owens phone vibrated.
He looked down, and a wave of uncontrollable elation spread from his lips to his eyes.
He even showed his screen to Sienna, who laughed and leaned her body against his.
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
The people who had been defending Owen seconds earlier instantly shut their mouths.
The video was incontrovertible proof.
Owen, I spoke, my voice razor-sharp in the stillness of the banquet hall. How does it feel to receive a twenty-million-dollar down payment?
Owens strength gave out; he would have collapsed if the security guard hadn't been holding him.
He stared at the screen, then at me, his expression a mix of raw terror and absolute despair.
That... thats fabricated! Vivian! You have a sick mind! You forged a video to frame me!
Sienna shrieked. Yes! Its a fake! Mr. Harrington, you have to believe us! We have shed blood and built this company for you!
She began to cry, leaning on theatrics.
Mr. Harrington, she is just jealous that Owen and I are close! She wants to destroy me, destroy Owen, and destroy the company!
Is that so? I manipulated the laptop and opened another file.
It was an audio recording.
Lets all listen to this, then.
Owen, will the old woman figure it out? Im worried. That was Siennas voice.
Dont worry about it. Shes just Internal Audit; she wont find her way to Vertex Solutions. Once we get the full payment, we quit, start a new company overseas, take all our best clients, and the old man will be too late to cry about it! That was Owens voice.
Oh, Owen, youre so smart! That old woman is pathetic; she actually thinks youre out there fighting for your family!
Family? Im sick of her. She walks around with that perpetually serious face, like a walking corpse. She has none of your spark. When this is done, Im filing for divorce. Then youll be Mrs. Price, officially.
Really, Owen? I love you!
The clip ended with a few seconds of intimate, unseemly noises.
I hit pause.
Siennas hysterical sobs cut off. She was ash-faced, slumped in her chair.
Owen ceased struggling, his eyes vacant.
The only sound in the banquet hall was the rapid, shallow breathing of hundreds of people.
The audio not only confirmed the commercial betrayal but brutally stripped bare their ugly private life, exposing it to everyone.
Victor Shaw and the few other executives close to Owen were pale as ghosts.
They realized this was no longer just about Owen and Sienna.
It was a vast, corporate earthquake.
Harringtons face was dark.
He looked at the wreckage that was Owen, then at me, his gaze complex.
Vivian, where did that recording come from?
Siennas necklace, I answered cleanly.
The Cartier pendant Owen bought her. She proudly showed it off to me last month. I complimented it, touched itand secured a micro-recorder to the back of the clasp.
A collective intake of breath swept through the hall.
A woman who could endure her husbands infidelity, subtly attach a wire to his mistress, and meticulously orchestrate a public execution of this scaleshe was a new kind of terror.
Owen finally reacted.
He lifted his head abruptly, and the eyes that once made my heart race were now filled with pure, unadulterated hatred.
Vivian! he shrieked. Do you think youve won? Do you think youre clean?
He suddenly laughed, a manic, broken sound.
Shes fooling all of you! She is the most malicious person here!
Shes not the victim at all! She is the mastermind behind the whole damn thing!
Owen broke free of the guard, pointing his finger right at me.
Mr. Harrington! Do you know why she has all this proof? Because she was planning this from the start!
That five-million-dollar hole? I didnt take it! She did! She created those dummy accounts! She wired the money to an offshore account and tried to pin the whole thing on me! She wants to send me to prison so she can take all our marital assets!
And the client list? That was her, too! She was the one who contacted Richard Zhang at Vertex! She made Sienna and me the fall guys! That USB drive? She gave it to me!
She hates me, and she hates the company! She wants us all to go down together!
The room erupted again.
What? She did it herself?
This is an insane twist.
If thats true, shes utterly terrifying.
My stomach dropped.
I had anticipated Owen would lash out, but I hadnt expected him to construct such a grotesque, intricate lie to turn the tables.
Harrington narrowed his eyes, refocusing entirely on me.
Vivian, how do you explain what he just said?
My palms began to sweat.
All my evidence pointed to Owen and Sienna; I had no clean proof of my own innocence.
I hadnt prepared for a counter-accusation when the evidence against them was so overwhelming.
Owen, seeing Harringtons reaction and the wavering crowd, became more frantic.
Explain? How can she explain? Mr. Harrington, check her accounts! Check her parents accounts! The money is still out there! She thought she was flawless, but she missed one thing!
He raised his voice, emphasizing every word.
I have the phone recording of her discussion with Richard Zhang of Vertex Solutions!
First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "310784" to read the entire book.
MotoNovel
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