After closing.
Not before.
They had no authority inside our stores.
I looked at Richard.
“Did you authorize Lark to issue instructions to my managers?”
His expression went cold.
Victoria spoke quickly.
“Dad, it wasn’t like that.”
He turned toward her.
“What did you do?”
She shook her head.
“I helped them understand client expectations.”
“Who is them?”
“Lark.”
“Because if we were buying the company, someone needed to improve things.”
My anger returned.
“You thought you owned Bellamy before the deal closed.”
She looked at me.
“I thought we were trying to make it better.”
“By removing customers you didn’t approve of?”
“That’s not what happened.”
Jasmine spoke from behind me.
“It is.”
Victoria turned.
Jasmine’s voice shook.
But she continued.
“The list had categories.”
I felt cold.
“What categories?”
“Platinum.”
“Gold.”
“Standard.”
“And discretionary.”
I knew immediately which one mattered.
“What did discretionary mean?”
Martin answered this time.
“It meant management could refuse service.”
“Based on what?”
He looked ashamed.
“Presentation.”
“That’s not a policy.”
“I know.”
“Income?”
“Sometimes.”
“Clothing?”
“Race?”
His silence lasted too long.
Richard swore quietly.
Victoria snapped, “Nobody said race.”
I turned toward her.
“Did anyone need to?”
She opened her mouth.
No answer.
Jasmine looked toward the security guards.
“One of them refused to remove a customer last week.”
The younger guard beside the entrance raised his eyes.
“Was that you?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I got written up.”
“Failure to protect brand environment.”
That phrase hit me like acid.
“Who signed the write-up?”
He looked at Martin.
Martin’s shoulders fell.
“I was afraid.”
“Of losing your job?”
“Now you have.”
He looked down.
I hated that answer.
But I hated the system that had made employees believe prejudice was safer than resistance even more.
Richard stepped toward Victoria.
“You worked with Lark?”
“How closely?”
“That depends what you mean.”
His face darkened.
“I attended planning meetings.”
My pulse quickened.
“You were not part of the transaction team,” I said.
“I’m family.”
“That isn’t authority.”
She ignored me.
Richard didn’t.
“How many meetings?”
“Maybe six.”
“With who?”
“Lark’s managing partner.”
“Name.”
She paused.
“Adrian Cole.”
I knew him.
Everybody in private equity knew him.
Aggressive.
Smart.
Too comfortable with conflicts.
Richard’s face went pale.
“Adrian?”
Her father looked at me.
“Adrian used to work for us.”
I understood the problem immediately.
“How long ago?”
“Seven years.”
“In what role?”
“Strategy.”
“Why did he leave?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Victoria looked between us.
“Why does that matter?”
Richard stared at his daughter.
“Because he was fired.”
Her eyes widened.
“Unauthorized transfer of confidential information.”
I felt the pieces shifting.
An unapproved consulting firm.
Internal store directives.
Client profiling.
A frozen bank facility.
Maybe this wasn’t just entitlement.
Maybe somebody had been using Victoria’s arrogance as access.
My phone rang.
My chief counsel.
I answered.
“Talk to me.”
“Simone, we found something.”
I stepped away from the group.
“Lark Advisory received internal Bellamy sales data three weeks ago.”
My body went still.
“From our system?”
“Authorized?”
“How much?”
“Customer profiles, store performance, supplier contracts, lease terms.”
That was acquisition-grade data.
Potentially devastating in the wrong hands.
“Source?”
“We’re tracing it.”