Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series by Ainsley Claire (easy readers .txt) 📗

seven billion, and each year since I’ve donated close to five billion.”

He pales. “That’s a lot of money.”

I look down at my hands and chuckle. “Sometimes people are lucky, and I’ve been very lucky.”

“I’d say. So how much have you donated to the foundation in total?”

“I believe at last count it was approaching twenty-five billion dollars.”

A sharp breath whistles through his teeth. “How did you get your money?”

“The old-fashioned way. I earned it.”

“Did you have any help?”

I try very hard not to be insulted by this question. Would he ask this of Jackson Graham? What about Nate? They’re both self-made billionaires. Most people who know my dad assume that he helped me. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. I did it all on my own.

“I had venture capital investment from SHN.”

“All of your assets come from your company?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Nothing from your parents.”

“Will you be asking Nate Lancaster those questions, or are you asking them because I’m a woman?” I fire back.

His head snaps up to look at me. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never heard of you or Diamond Analytics.”

“Then I suggest you do better research, Abram,” Marci admonishes.

Reaching for the coffee carafe, he pours himself a cup and offers one to me. I shake my head. “You met Viviana Prentis at an SHN party, is that correct?”

“Yes.” I sit back and cross my legs at the ankles.

“What can you tell me about the event?”

“Each year they have a large event for their staff and the employees of all their investments. They were having a carnival down on the peninsula, and Mason Sullivan and Dillon Healy introduced us. They were a new venture capital fund, and they’d just invested in both of our startups. We hung out together some, but they also introduced me to Claire and Landon Walsh, Ryder Brady, and Jackson Graham that same day.”

“But you and Viviana hit it off.”

“I suppose. We agreed to meet for drinks and invited Claire Walsh and Toni, er, Antoinette Lo to join us.”

“Did you know of any ties between Viviana and the Russian government?”

“Never.”

“When did you and Viviana become close?”

“It happened gradually. We all became close, and then Viviana and I started playing in Nate’s poker tournaments.”

They spend the next two hours grilling me. They ask about Nate, Mason, and others, and then out of nowhere, they circle back and ask a question about Viviana. Often they’re asking the same question over and over, but each time in a different way.

Finally, we break for lunch. Marci has our meal delivered because the press is outside, so we eat our salads at the conference room table. I don’t think Peter and Jim are that excited about the food, and I can’t blame them.

After our lunch break, the attorneys ask me another four hours of questions.

Toward the end, I’m tired and becoming annoyed.

Finally, Marci interrupts. “That was your last question. You haven’t asked anything new in the previous two hours, and Ms. Couture has not wavered in her answers.”

Marci stands, as does her team, and I join them.

“Thank you for coming today, Ms. Couture. We expect that today’s conversation remains within these walls.”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Please let my office know if you have further questions,” Marci tells them. “I assume you’ll be subpoenaing my client for the trial of Ms. Prentis.”

“That is our plan right now.”

We walk out of the room and ride down in the elevator. We stand in the lobby, just inside the doors, waiting for Bash to arrive with the car.

“You did fantastic today,” Marci says. “I’m really happy, and you should be, too.”

“They didn’t go much into any breaches at Diamond Analytics.”

She looks over at Jim. “That was surprising. Also, once the government releases its witness list, you may be called for an interview by Viviana’s attorney, Tatyana Turgeneva. If you’re subpoenaed, please call me immediately, and I’ll do the same.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

We get in the car, and I want to crawl into bed as soon as I get home. I plan on sleeping until the Prospectors are back in town for their game on Thursday night.

Bash turns news radio on for Jim, and after a moment I realize the reporters are talking about my deposition. My breath catches. I haven’t told anyone what was said—I haven’t had a chance to tell anyone. “You know I didn’t say anything,” I tell Jim in the front seat.

He nods. “I’m positive no one from Marci’s firm did either.”

In short order, he gets on the phone with Marci. They agree I can still go home, and she plans to register a complaint that confidential testimony has been shared.

“I’m going to put someone in your living room tonight,” Jim informs me. “I’m sorry.”

“I get it.”

When we arrive at my house, the police have cordoned off my street. Bash rolls his window down and explains who he is. I’m asked for my driver’s license, and we’re told that the police are at my house and in the alley behind.

The police hold off the crowd, and Jennifer and Peter follow me into my home. They shut all windows and secure the perimeter while I walk upstairs and climb into the tub. I soak for several minutes while my phone rings off the hook. It’s a new number that I got after Viviana was arrested. I can see the callers are my friends, but I don’t have the energy to talk to them. Once the ringing stops, the text messages begin to chime.

I send a group message to my friends—including Axel—so they won’t worry about me.

Me: I’m fine but exhausted. It was grueling and I’m not allowed to discuss any of it, but suffice to say what’s been reported was an accurate account of