Page 47 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start (Twin Waves #2)

TWENTY-THREE

MICHELLE

My reflection in the bathroom mirror shows a woman trying too hard to look composed. The navy blazer is professional, the pearl earrings suggest competence, and the carefully applied makeup conceals two days of sleep deprivation and heartbreak. I look like a girl who has everything under control.

If only that were true.

My phone buzzes.

David: Channel 7 loves investigating financial irregularities. Make sure your answers are consistent with your grant applications.

The threat is clear—he has copies of my grant documents. Documents that detail every aspect of the preservation project, including Grayson’s role. Documents that could be twisted into evidence of financial impropriety if David decides to make trouble.

I check my makeup one final time, gathering the professional armor that has protected me through five years of rebuilding my life after David destroyed it the first time.

This time, the stakes are higher. This time, I’m not just protecting my business—I’m protecting everything Grayson and I built together.

Even though he’s not here to see it defended.

The walk from my apartment to the coffee shop downstairs feels endless. Mrs. Hensley waits by the front door with Jessica, both women radiating protective energy.

“Honey, you look beautiful,” Mrs. Hensley announces, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from my blazer. “Professional and confident.”

“I feel like I’m about to be sick.”

“That’s normal,” Jessica says, checking her watch. “David’s been making phone calls all afternoon. Something about compliance questions that mysteriously appeared on the interviewer’s notes.”

My stomach drops. “He’s feeding them questions?”

“Questions designed to make you look incompetent or financially irresponsible,” Mrs. Hensley confirms. “But we’ve done our homework too.”

She hands me a manila folder thick with documents. “Research on David Norris’s business practices across three states. Jessica’s book club network is more extensive than the FBI.”

I flip through pages of business registrations, partnership dissolutions, and what appears to be a comprehensive timeline of David’s predatory partnerships. “How did you find all this?”

“Just because I’m old as dirt doesn’t mean I don’t have strong internet research skills,” Mrs. Hensley says. “David has been running the same scam for years—target successful community leaders, gain access to their business plans and community connections, then disappear with everything valuable.”

“This is evidence of a pattern,” Jessica adds. “Individual victims couldn’t pursue legal action, but coordinated documentation from multiple communities? That’s different.”

Hope blooms in my chest for the first time in two days. “Can I use this in the interview?”

“You can use whatever you need to protect yourself,” Mrs. Hensley says firmly. “But Michelle? Don’t go in there thinking you have to handle this alone. Some battles require allies.”

Before I can ask what she means, the coffee shop door opens and Channel 7’s field reporter enters with the kind of smile that suggests she’s hoping for scandal rather than celebration.

“Michelle Lawson? I’m Rebecca Santos from Channel 7 News. Ready to talk about your federal grant funding?”

I force a professional smile and wonder if this is how gladiators felt entering the arena. “Absolutely. Let me just grab my project files.”

The camera crew finishes setting up while I arrange my documents on the counter. The grant applications, budget spreadsheets, project timelines—everything that proves the preservation funding is legitimate and well-managed.

Rebecca settles across from me with predatory grace.

“We’re rolling in thirty seconds,” the cameraman announces.

I take a deep breath, thinking about everything this project represents. The historic buildings that will be preserved instead of demolished. The local craftsmen who will have work for years. The community spaces that will serve Twin Waves for generations.

The future Grayson and I planned together, even if he’s not here to see it realized.

“Three, two, one?—”

“Good evening. I’m Rebecca Santos with Channel 7 News, reporting from Twin Waves, North Carolina, where local business owner Michelle Lawson has received over two million dollars in federal preservation grants. Michelle, thank you for joining us.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“Let’s start with the basics. These grants represent a significant amount of taxpayer money. Can you walk us through how the funding will be used?”

The question is straightforward, designed to establish credibility before the attack.

I explain the preservation timeline, the historic significance of the buildings involved, the economic impact on local contractors and craftsmen.

Standard information that’s been public record since the grants were awarded.

“The project preserves historically significant architecture while creating sustainable economic opportunity for local businesses,” I conclude. “It’s exactly the kind of community investment these federal programs were designed to support.”

“And this project was developed in collaboration with Reed Development Corporation?”

My chest tightens at the mention of Grayson’s company. “Yes. Reed Development brings expertise in sustainable construction practices and historic preservation techniques.”

“Despite potential conflicts of interest between preservation goals and development profits?”

The question carries an undertone that suggests an unnamed source has been feeding Rebecca information about tension between preservation and development. Some jerk who wants to cast doubt on my professional judgment.

“There are no conflicts of interest. Preservation and sustainable development are complementary goals when projects are designed thoughtfully.”

“Some critics suggest that personal relationships can compromise professional decision-making. Your partnership with Reed Development—is it purely professional?”

Heat flashes across my face as I realize David’s strategy. He’s not just attacking my professional competence—he’s using my relationship with Grayson as evidence of poor judgment.

“My professional decisions are based on project requirements and community needs, not personal considerations.”

“But you are personally involved with Grayson Reed?”

The question hangs in the studio lighting. Answer yes, and she’ll paint me as a person who lets romance influence financial decisions. Answer no, and I’ll be lying on live television while my heart breaks all over again.

“Grayson Reed is a respected professional in sustainable development. Our collaboration has been highly successful.”

It’s a deflection that avoids the personal question while emphasizing professional credibility. Rebecca’s expression suggests she’s not satisfied with the non-answer.

“Mr. Reed isn’t here today. Some sources suggest there have been complications with your partnership recently.”

“Sources.” Of course. David has been busy planting seeds of doubt about my relationship stability, painting me as a woman whose personal drama affects professional projects.

“The Twin Waves preservation project continues exactly as planned,” I say firmly. “The funding is secure, the timeline is on track, and the community benefits will be substantial.”

“What about questions regarding compliance oversight? Federal grants require extensive documentation and reporting. Some critics worry that small business owners lack the administrative infrastructure to manage such large-scale funding appropriately.”

And there it is. David’s master stroke. He’s convinced them that I’m incompetent to manage federal funding, that my business is too small, too inexperienced, too likely to make costly mistakes that will require returning the money.

“I have extensive experience with federal grant management and have assembled a team of professionals to ensure complete compliance with all reporting requirements.”

“Can you specify who comprises this professional team?”

The question is designed to expose whether I’m managing everything alone, whether I have adequate support systems, whether the grants are as secure as I claim. It’s also designed to force me to admit that my primary professional partner—Grayson—is currently missing.

“The project team includes legal counsel, certified accountants, and construction management professionals with extensive federal contracting experience.”

True enough, though most of that team exists because Grayson insisted on building proper infrastructure around the grants. Grayson, who believed in my vision enough to surround it with the protection it needed.

Grayson, who isn’t here to defend what we built together.

“Michelle, we’ve received information suggesting there may be irregularities in your grant applications. Specifically, questions about whether all collaborative partnerships were properly disclosed during the application process.”

My blood turns to ice. David has convinced them that Grayson and I hid our relationship during the grant application process, that we committed fraud by not disclosing personal involvement that could be construed as conflict of interest.

It’s brilliant and completely false. Our collaboration was transparently documented throughout the application process. But proving that requires access to the original applications—applications David somehow obtained copies of.

“All partnerships and collaborative relationships were properly disclosed according to federal requirements. The grant applications are public record and available for review.”

“What about financial relationships between your business and Reed Development? Were all monetary exchanges properly documented?”

The question hits hard. David isn’t just questioning our professional relationship—he’s implying financial impropriety. Money changing hands without proper documentation. Kickbacks. Fraud.