Chapter 5 - THE AUDIT AND THE EXECUTION"It turns out," Vance said, tapping the glass of his tablet, "that your ex-husband wasn't just an arrogant snob. He was an embezzler."
Elena didn't look surprised. Cruelty and dishonesty usually walked hand in hand.
"Go on," she said.
"Over the past three years, Grant systematically funneled nearly two point four million dollars in Holloway-Vance corporate discretionary funds into off-shore accounts registered in the British Virgin Islands," Vance explained, bringing up encrypted ledger files. "And where did a significant portion of those funds end up? A luxury condo in downtown Chicago, purchased under a shell company."
"Registered to Madison Vale," Elena guessed.
"Bingo," Vance smiled grimly. "Not only that, but Grant used corporate sponsorship funds to finance her lifestyle, her designer wardrobe, and her mother’s medical bills, while lying to the board about ROI metrics."
Elena stared out the small kitchen window into the overgrown backyard where she used to chase fireflies with her mother on humid July nights.
"He thought I was a helpless nobody," Elena murmured, almost to herself. "He thought because I wore off-the-rack clothes when we met, I was someone he could step on, use, and discard when a younger, shinier version came along."
"He made the calculation of a fool," Vance replied. "Shall I forward the full forensic audit to the federal prosecutor's office? We have enough evidence to put him away for federal fraud for the next fifteen years."
"Not yet," Elena said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Let him squirm for a few days first. Let him try to call his friends. Let him find out what happens when you lose your job, your money, your mistress, and your social standing all within twenty-four hours."
"And the mistress?" Vance asked.
"Madison?" Elena let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Drop her contract with the marketing firm immediately. Blacklist her from every corporate partner we hold. Let her see how long she stays with Grant when he has to pay for his own coffee."
"Consider it handled," Vance said, snapping his tablet shut. "There is one more matter, Chairwoman. Your mother's estate lawyer in Columbus reached out while we were en route. There was a safety deposit box at the local credit union. It wasn't opened in your mother's name."
Elena turned sharply. "Whose name was it in?"
"Yours," Vance replied. "Set up twenty-five years ago by a trust managed directly through Zurich. The key was delivered to me via secure courier five minutes ago."
May you like
Elena reached out, taking the small, cold brass key from Vance's palm.
It was stamped with a single word: Mercer.
