THE MUSIC BOX MILLIONAIRE

Charles staggered backward, bumping into a waiter. "David, give me that drive. Right now. That is stolen corporate property."

"It’s not stolen if I’m a board member of Whitfield Heritage Holdings," David said calmly. "Mom appointed me yesterday."

The senior banker, Mr. Sterling, stepped forward, his face a mask of cold fury. "Charles, what is on that drive?"

Charles opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"I'll tell you what's on it," David said through the speakers. "Two sets of books. The fake one you presented to the board to justify this ridiculous seventy-two-million-dollar party. And the real one, showing that you took out three high-interest bridge loans from unlicensed lenders in the Caymans."

Savannah’s face turned ashen. "Unlicensed lenders? Charles, you told me you borrowed from Sterling's bank!"

"He couldn't," Margaret interjected, sipping her water. "Because Mr. Sterling required Eleanor's signature for any loans exceeding ten million. Charles went to loan sharks."

Sterling slammed his fist on the table. "You leveraged my investments against illegal offshore debt?"

"I had to keep the sites running!" Charles yelled, cornered and frantic. "I am Charles Whitfield! I don't fail! I just needed a few months to flip the riverfront to Blue Horizon!"

A stunning realization rippled through the room. Charles wasn't a mastermind. He was a desperate gambler doubling down on a losing hand, and Savannah had swooped in to catch the falling money.

"You're a fool, Charles," Savannah spat, dropping the act completely. Her sweet, adoring voice turned hard and vicious. "My father was going to gut the property, declare bankruptcy, and leave you holding the bag anyway. You really thought I loved a washed-up, fifty-year-old fraud?"

Charles stared at her, utterly broken. "Savannah..."

"I'm done," she snapped, turning on her heel toward the exit. "I'm calling my brother. We're leaving the state tonight."

"I wouldn't pack just yet," Margaret said.

Savannah stopped, her hand on the brass doorknob. "You can't stop me. I didn't sign the forgery."

"No," Margaret agreed. "But you did co-sign the bridge loans."

Savannah froze. "What?"

Margaret pulled a final sheet of paper from her folder. "Charles couldn't secure the Cayman loans on his own signature alone, since his legitimate assets were tied up. He needed a co-signer with apparent liquid wealth."