Reaching for the intercom, she pressed the button. "Mr Domango, I need you in here. Now."
There was silence, then a curt, "I'll be right there."
A moment later, the glass door swung open and Richard entered. Crossing his arms, he stopped in front of the desk as his cool gaze stared down at the redhead who'd ordered him into her office. "What is it?"
Shantel didn't bother with pleasantries. She turned her monitor toward him, highlighting key figures. "These numbers don't add up. Either someone's skimming funds or your financial team is grossly incompetent."
"And here—" she pointed at another section, "—if you restructure these liabilities, you can buy yourself a six-month buffer instead of three."
Richard leaned in to scan the screen. He didn't speak immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter, almost thoughtful. "You figured all this out in just a few hours?"
She tilted her head and met his gaze steadily. "That's what I'm here for."
