Chapter 4 - The Audit BeginsThe heavy oak doors of the executive boardroom on the fiftieth floor were locked from the inside.
Outside, the glittering night skyline of the city stretched out endlessly beneath the dark clouds. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, cooling coffee, and cold, unyielding corporate justice.
Seated at the long mahogany table were Julian Vance, Marcus Thorne, Richard Vance, and myself. At the head of the table sat my mother, quietly sipping a cup of chamomile tea that one of the trembling vice presidents had rushed to prepare for her.
On the massive projection screen at the front of the room, a series of financial spreadsheets and bank statements were flashing in rapid succession.
"The initial audit of the public affairs division's accounts is worse than we anticipated, Daniel," Marcus Thorne said, tapping a stylus against his tablet. "It’s not just four million in unaccounted discretionary spending. It's structural embezzlement."
Julian Vance leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished wood. "Your wife didn't just run a toxic department, Daniel. She used company funds to finance her personal social club memberships, buy luxury real estate under shell corporations, and payoff junior employees who threatened to report her for workplace abuse."
I stared at the financial logs displayed on the screen. My name was listed as the ultimate beneficial owner of the holding company, but because I preferred staying behind the scenes, I had delegated day-to-day oversight of certain subsidiaries to the executive board—giving Vanessa enough rope to hang herself.
And she had woven the noose with absolute enthusiasm.
"How long has she been running these dummy accounts?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
"Since right after Arthur died," Richard Vance answered, shaking his head with a grim smile. "She thought she was smarter than everyone else because she shared last names with the founder. She assumed no one would ever audit a Whitmore."
My mother set her teacup down gently on its saucer. The delicate porcelain made a soft clink against the wood.
"Greed is a heavy blanket, son," my mother said softly, her eyes fixed on the financial graphs. "It keeps you warm for a little while, but eventually, it suffocates you."
"She’s going to try to contact you, Daniel," Julian warned. "Her lawyers are already calling my firm. They’re threatening a messy divorce proceeding, demanding fifty percent of your personal assets under community property laws."
A cold, humorless smile touched the corners of my mouth.
"Let her file," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Let her spend every last dime she has left on high-priced divorce attorneys. She’ll find out very quickly that community property laws only apply to assets owned during the marriage—and every single share of Cole Global Holdings was placed into an irrevocable family trust bearing my mother's maiden name three days before our wedding."
Marcus Thorne let out a short, sharp laugh. "You locked down the assets before you even put a ring on her finger?"
"I grew up watching my father lose everything because he trusted a handshake from a man like Arthur Whitmore," I replied, my gaze shifting to the window overlooking the city. "I learned early on never to leave my back exposed to someone who only loves you for your shadow."
Just then, my phone buzzed on the table.
It was a text message from an unknown number. I picked it up and opened it.
“Daniel, please answer the phone. I’m standing outside the lobby in the rain. They won’t let me back in. I have nowhere to go. My cards are declined. Please, I’m begging you.”
May you like
I looked at the message for three seconds. Then, I blocked the number, placed the phone face down on the table, and looked at Marcus.
"Let's move on to the restructuring of the board," I said smoothly. "I want every single executive who enabled Vanessa's behavior over the last two years investigated and replaced by morning."
