Back at his penthouse, Alexander poured whiskey with hands that weren’t quite steady.
Vivian watched him from the couch, her mind racing through possibilities. The man across the street had looked young, handsome, bitter—but not like Marcus. She’d met Marcus. She knew his face. This was someone else entirely.
“Who was he?” she asked again.
Alexander drained half his glass before answering. “His name is James Hartley. He was my CFO until eighteen months ago.”
“Was?”
“I fired him. For embezzlement.” Alexander’s jaw tightened. “He was skimming from the company—small amounts at first, then larger. By the time we caught him, he’d taken nearly two million dollars. I could have prosecuted. Instead, I let him resign quietly on the condition he paid it back and never worked in finance again.”
