“Not anymore,” I said.

“The board has terminated your promotional agreement for breach of the moral turpitude clause.”

“You can’t do that,” she gasped.

“It is already done,” I said.

I hung up.

I ordered the marketing team to pull down every billboard featuring her face.

We replaced them with the raw blueprinted schematics of the building.

We let the architecture speak for itself.

The legal battle took eight months.

Grant’s defense attorney tried to claim I had verbal knowledge of the loans.

They produced emails.

Diane proved the emails were sent from Grant’s laptop using a spoofed IP address.

I sat in the front row of the courtroom on the final day.

Grant did not look at me when the foreman stood up.

“Guilty,” the man read.

Guilty of grand larceny.

Guilty of bank fraud.

Guilty of forgery.

The judge sentenced him to seven years in a federal penitentiary.

As they led him out of the courtroom, he finally turned his head.

His eyes were red.

His skin was pale.

I did not smile.

I did not frown.

I simply watched him walk through the double doors.