Grant’s face went grey under his expensive Newport Beach tan.

“That is a lie,” Grant said, his voice cracking slightly.

“It was an administrative oversight by our accounting department.”

“We had a joint agreement for discretionary spending on phase two.”

“Not for three million dollars, Grant,” Caleb Rhodes said.

Caleb’s voice was dry and heavy.

He looked down at the tablet screen, his finger scrolling through the red-flagged transactions.

“And certainly not to purchase a luxury condominium in Laguna Beach under the name of Monroe Holdings,” Caleb added.

Lila Monroe shifted in her chair, her manicured nails digging into her designer handbag.

“That was a marketing expense,” Lila muttered, looking at the floor.

“The board approved a brand-ambassador residence.”

“The board did no such thing,” Caleb said.

He looked up at me, his grey eyes steady and cold.

“Vivian, I apologize,” Caleb said.

“I should have looked closer at the ledger three months ago.”

“You were busy attending charity galas with Grant,” I said.

“I was busy pouring the concrete.”

I opened my purse and pulled out a leather-bound folder.