Chapter 91 - The Limits of the Report
The independent board committee issued an internal preliminary report on the TriBeCa valuation that was frustrating in all the ways a careful report should be.
It did not announce a mastermind. It did not say Vanessa alone had crashed Moretti Capital. It documented inconsistent versions of the project model, decisions made without complete risk footnotes, and insufficient controls over who could distribute draft numbers to prospective investors.
The source of the leak remained under investigation.
Sarah called me after her attorney was allowed to share a narrow summary.
“Adrian's board is finally looking at the people who designed the system,” she said.
“Are you relieved?”
“Partly. Mostly I'm afraid they're going to name three policy failures and call everything fixed.”
“Can they?”
“They can say it. The independent directors still have to approve any remediation.”
A journalist had already asked whether I'd provide a quote about Vanessa's supposed guilt. I declined. The facts weren't mine to pronounce, and Leo had enough adults around him explaining the company as if he were a piece of it.
That afternoon the board announced a temporary pause on the public offering timetable. Investors disliked uncertainty; the stock movement was immediate. Adrian did not call me to complain.
Instead, he sent a brief message confirming he would be in Vermont for Leo's scheduled school meeting.
“You're still going?” I asked.
“Yes. The board has a deputy chair and outside counsel. Leo has one school meeting.”
I put my phone down and thought of our anniversary gala, sixteen weeks earlier, when Adrian had barely noticed whether I ate dinner. The same man was now choosing a child's appointment over a day of financial chaos.
It didn't mean the corporate problems were resolved. It didn't erase his cruelty to me. It did mean his calendar contained a choice that would have been unthinkable during our marriage.
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Late that night, Sarah sent one more update. The committee had preserved all project versions, including the missing appendix Owen identified. There would be an external accounting of the discrepancy.
I saved the message. Evidence was moving through the right hands. I could finally allow myself to sleep without becoming an unpaid detective for Adrian's company.
