That answer frightened Corbin more than any accusation could have.
He left without Vivian.
The door shut behind him.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Vivian whispered, “He told me you were unstable.”
Selena looked at her.
Vivian’s face had completely changed.
“He said you were controlling. That your family used money to keep him trapped. That you refused to let him build anything on his own.”
Selena stayed silent.
Vivian swallowed.
“He told me the divorce was supposed to happen months ago, but you threatened to ruin him.”
Tamara, who had been waiting outside and had quietly entered during the final minutes, made a disgusted sound.
Selena raised one hand.
Not now.
Vivian noticed.
She laughed bitterly.
“You’re protecting me?”
“No.”
Selena answered immediately.
“I’m refusing to make you responsible for lies you did not know were lies.”
Vivian’s eyes filled with tears.
She wiped them quickly.
“I knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
“I went to your parents’ funeral with him.”
“Yes.”
“I said that thing to you.”
Selena did not make it easier for her.
“Yes.”
Vivian looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology came too late to erase what had happened.
But Selena had learned something between those two graves.
Late truth was still better than permanent deception.
She nodded once.
“Then help us determine what happened.”
Vivian did.
For six hours.
She handed over her phone.
Her private emails.
Photos.
Travel records.
Voice messages.
And the password to a cloud folder Corbin had once warned her never to open.
The password was her birthday.
Inside were dozens of files.
Some harmless.
Others far from it.
By evening, the issue had expanded well beyond hidden consulting payments.
The folder contained unsigned drafts of distribution agreements.
Private investor communications.
A list of journalists.
And a spreadsheet labeled TRANSITION.
Blythe opened it.
Rows of names filled the screen.
Board members.
Executives.
Department heads.
Each name had a color beside it.
Green.
Yellow.
Red.
Tamara stared at the screen.
“What is this?”
Blythe scrolled downward.
Beside the names were notes.
LOYAL.
PERSUADABLE.
REMOVE.
Selena felt the room tighten around her.
Corbin had been preparing something.
Not merely a film.
A takeover.
Malcolm pointed to a section near the bottom.
Three outside investors had proposed equity commitments.
Enough capital to attempt an acquisition if Vellum Crown’s valuation fell.
Blythe slowly raised her head.
“The Glass Monarch wasn’t just his breakout.”
Selena understood before she finished speaking.
“It was leverage.”
Suddenly, the strategy became visible.
Corbin had pushed Vellum Crown to spend aggressively on the film.
Marketing.
Reshoots.
International commitments.
Premium premiere costs.
At the same time, he had been telling outside investors the company was poorly managed.
Overextended.
Vulnerable.
If the film failed, Vellum Crown’s valuation would drop.
If it succeeded, Corbin’s public profile would rise high enough for him to claim responsibility.
Either outcome positioned him to move.
Theodore Price said what everyone was thinking.
“He was betting against us while using our money to build himself.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Potentially.”
That word mattered.
Potentially.
Selena refused to turn suspicion into a verdict.
“Verify everything.”
They did.
For three days.
Then four.
Then five.
The premiere remained suspended.
The entertainment press erupted.
CORBIN ASHFORD’S GLASS MONARCH DELAYED HOURS BEFORE GLOBAL LAUNCH.
CREATIVE DISPUTE?
FINANCING QUESTIONS?
VELLUM CROWN SILENT.
Corbin was not silent.
He appeared outside a Manhattan hotel surrounded by cameras.
He wore a navy coat.
No tie.
Controlled anger.
Perfect lighting.
“I am devastated that personal bitterness has infected a project hundreds of people worked years to create.”
He never said Selena’s name.
He didn’t need to.
The headlines did it for him.
DIVORCE WAR BEHIND STUDIO CHAOS?
WIFE BLOCKS HUSBAND’S PREMIERE AFTER CEMETERY SPLIT.
Selena watched the clip once.
Then turned it off.
Tamara paced through the office.
“He’s making you look insane.”
“Let him.”
“He humiliated you at your parents’ graves and now he’s calling you bitter.”
“Tamara.”
“What?”
Selena looked toward the windows.
Rain fell over Manhattan.
The same gray as the cemetery.
“If I respond emotionally, I give him the story he wants.”
“So what do you do?”
Selena turned around.
“I give them documents.”
The audit committee released a narrow statement the following morning.
No divorce.
No cemetery.
No betrayal.
Only facts.
Release postponed pending review of undisclosed financial interests associated with project acquisition and third-party compensation.
