Chapter 4 - THE UNRAVELING MASK
Madison slowly sank back into her seat, her lower lip trembling violently. The calculated, poised young woman who had casually mocked me in the lobby two weeks ago was completely gone. In her place sat a terrified twenty-five-year-old realizing the walls were closing in.
Ryan looked between Madison and me, his eyebrows knit together in mounting frustration. "Natalie, what the hell are you playing at? What does Tyler have to do with anything? I threw him some freelance work because he was broke and Madison said he had connections with TikTok creators in Austin. That has nothing to do with my son!"
"Your son," I said, savoring the irony of the phrase. "Tell me, Ryan. When did you and Madison sleep together?"
"Natalie, this isn't appropriate for a boardroom," David Sterling muttered, though he made no move to stop me; his curiosity was piqued.
"Answer the question, Ryan," I insisted. "When did your Chicago indiscretion occur?"
"You know when!" Ryan barked, his face red with humiliation. "November fourteenth. We were at the McCormick Place expo. We had drinks at the hotel bar, we went upstairs, and it happened. It was a single, stupid night. Noah was born on August tenth. The timeline matches perfectly. Do you want to see the birth certificate, Natalie? My name is on it!"
"Yes, your name is on it," I agreed smoothly. "Because you signed the voluntary acknowledgment of paternity at Hoag Hospital."
I turned to Madison. "Did you tell him to sign it immediately, Madison? Or did you suggest that doing a paternity test would 'hurt Ryan's feelings' and prove he didn't trust you?"
Madison’s chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow pants. "Ryan wanted to be a good father. He didn't want to question me. We care about each other."
"That's sweet," I said, opening the thin document in front of me. "Here is the flight manifest for the Chicago summit on November fourteenth. Ryan was there. Madison was there. But do you know who else was booked into room 412 at the Hyatt Regency Chicago under Madison Cole's corporate travel profile?"
Ryan’s eyes widened. "What?"
"Tyler Vance," I said, dropping the hotel bill on the table. "Room service ordered two ribeye steaks and a bottle of bourbon charged to room 412 at 11:30 p.m. On the exact night Ryan was allegedly having his drunken tryst with Madison."
Ryan turned to Madison, his voice dropping into a dangerous, raspy register. "Madison? What is she talking about? Why was Tyler in Chicago? You told me you went to your room alone after I passed out in the lounge."
Madison didn't answer. Her eyes darted toward the exit.
"Let's look at the financial records of Vanguard Media," I continued, unyielding. "The hundred and thirty-five thousand dollars wired from Bennett Lane to Vanguard Media didn't stay in Vanguard's business checking account. Within forty-eight hours of each transfer, ninety percent of the funds were withdrawn in cash from an ATM in Costa Mesa, or transferred directly into a joint savings account held by Madison Cole and Tyler Vance."
The room went dead silent. You could hear the distant hum of traffic fourteen floors below on Newport Boulevard.
"A joint savings account?" Ryan whispered, the color completely draining from his face until his skin looked like parchment. "You... you have a bank account with Tyler?"
"Ryan, let me explain," Madison sobbed, tears finally breaking past her lashes, leaving streaks of mascara down her cheeks. "Tyler was threatening me! He was blackmailing me! He said if I didn't help him get money from the company, he would tell Natalie about us!"
"About who?" Ryan roared, standing up and towering over her, his hands shaking with uncontrolled rage. "About who, Madison?!"
"About him and me!" she cried, covering her face with her hands. "We were dating before I started working here! We never broke up! We were together the whole time!"
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Ryan staggered back two paces, bumping into the large whiteboard behind him, knocking two dry-erase markers onto the floor. "You were together? But... Chicago... you said Noah was conceived that night. You swore to God on your grandmother's grave that you had never been with anyone else!"
"You passed out, Ryan," I said, my voice slicing through the chaos with absolute, clinical precision. "You drank half a bottle of Macallan at the hotel bar, bragged to everyone about your upcoming Series C valuation, and Madison helped you up to your suite. You never slept with her, Ryan. You passed out on top of the bed with your shoes on. Madison went back to her room, spent the night with Tyler, and three weeks later, when she found out she was pregnant, she realized she had two choices: she could have a baby with an unemployed, alcoholic cameraman... or she could convince an arrogant, insecure influencer CEO that he was about to become a father."
