I put him on speaker, unhurried, studying the freshly printed photographs spread across my desk.
"The receiving party's credentials raised red flags. To mitigate risk, I had Finance run a secondary review."
My tone didn't waver.
"What? That vendor has worked with us for years—"
"Didn't you say you were putting me in charge?"
One sentence, and Bruno went silent.
After a long pause, he managed: "But... but—"
"No buts. Protocol is protocol."
I hung up.
I looked down at the photographs and let out a cold laugh.
My private investigator had sent them over just that morning. Genevieve, the woman who had supposedly been fired, was lounging inside that luxury penthouse.
The watch on her wrist had been captured in perfect clarity.
And Bruno's car was parked right below the building.
Begging me to release project funds with one hand, keeping his little songbird comfortable with the other.
Bruno, you really are something.
Over the following week, I turned a blind eye to everything. The stalled partnership issues. Bruno's secret visits to Genevieve behind my back.
All of it.
When Bruno played the devoted fiance, I responded with polite indifference and nothing more.
Then, finally, Friday evening arrived.