“Not this.”
“You never asked.”
His cheeks reddened.
Sloane rose from her seat.
“Camden, maybe we should take this somewhere private.”
I met her gaze.
She stopped moving.
I had plenty I could reveal.
I could mention the hotel receipt from Camden’s coat.
The midnight messages.
The anonymous photograph sent six weeks earlier showing Sloane entering his car outside her apartment.
One sentence could have ruined them both.
But then the evening would revolve around infidelity.
It wasn’t about that.
Not yet, at least.
Camden had publicly accused me of misconduct before clients, staff, and directors.
I needed that false accusation addressed first.
August appeared to understand that the professional allegation needed examination independently of my marriage.
“What performance concerns?” he asked.
Camden drew himself upright.
Pressure normally suited him.
That explained the board’s interest.
“Elena repeatedly exceeded authorized budgets in Community Relations. There were concerns regarding confidential materials, donor commitments, and internal communications.”
