Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
“James is a creative,” Marcus said, taking my hand. “If I told him every time we had to shift assets to satisfy a lender, he would panic. I protected him, just like I am trying to protect you.”
“But the ledger,” I began.
“You are looking for ghosts, Clare, because you cannot handle the stress of a real partnership,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “You are looking for a villain because it is easier than accepting that business has dry spells.”
I pulled my hand back, looking down at the marble counter.
His words hung in the quiet room, heavy and reasonable. In my ten years of consulting, I had seen founders make desperate, unorthodox moves to save their companies, moves that looked like theft on paper but were simply frantic attempts to survive. I thought of David Vance, who had warned me that patterns in these ledgers rarely lied. Yet, looking at Marcus’s calm, tired face under the yellow kitchen light, a cold knot of doubt tightened in my stomach.
“I just want to make sure we are safe,” I said.
