Chapter 5 - The War Room
By Wednesday morning, my small apartment had been transformed into a full legal war room.
Maya had brought in an independent forensic accountant named David Chen—a quiet, sharp-eyed man who specialized in tracing hidden corporate assets in high-stakes bankruptcy fraud cases. For six straight hours, David sat at my table, surrounded by paper coffee cups and stacks of audited financial statements Maya had subpoenaed from state regulatory databases.
"Your father is a high-wire artist, Natalie," David said, adjusting his glasses as he tapped a red pen against a spread sheet. "Look at these inter-company transfers spanning the last three years."
I leaned over his shoulder. "What am I looking at?"
"Between 2024 and 2026, Brooks Logistics Inc. transferred over $450,000 into a private account in the Cayman Islands under the name E.B. Management Trust," David explained.
My eyes widened. "E.B.? As in Evan Brooks?"
"Precisely," David nodded. "Your father was systematically draining operational capital out of his main logistics firm—the very money he claimed he needed to pay his employees—and hiding it in an off-shore trust registered exclusively in your brother’s name."
"Why?" I asked, completely horrified. "Why would he risk his entire company for that?"
"Because your father knew his logistics business was drowning in commercial debt," Maya interjected from the couch, where she was reviewing court filings. "He was preparing for a controlled corporate bankruptcy. He planned to let Brooks Logistics collapse, leave his creditors and employees holding the empty bag, while Evan walked away with a clean $450,000 off-shore nest egg and a $1.2 million oceanfront estate."
I sank into my chair, nauseated by the sheer depth of their greed.
All those years my mother had lectured me about "family sacrifice," all those holiday dinners where I was treated like an ungrateful outcast for asking to be repaid my $42,000 loan... it was all part of a calculated family scheme. They weren't struggling. They were embezzling.
"David," I said, my voice hardening into ice. "Can you prove that the $600,000 private loan from Vanguard Financial was funneled into that off-shore account?"
"Give me two hours with the bank routing numbers," David replied with a calm, professional confidence. "If the money touched Crestview Holdings before bouncing off-shore, it leaves a permanent digital footprint in the federal clearing system."
While David worked, my phone buzzed on the table. It was a text message from a local news reporter at the San Antonio Business Journal:
“Miss Brooks, we received an anonymous tip claiming you are currently holding company assets hostage during an internal restructuring of Brooks Logistics Inc. Do you have a comment regarding the pending employee layoffs?”
I stared at the screen, my blood boiling.
"Dad leaked the story to the business press," I said, showing the text to Maya. "He’s trying to paint me as the greedy, rogue daughter who is destroying local jobs."
"Classic public relations ambush," Maya scoffed. "He wants to create local public outrage so you feel pressured to surrender the deed before the news destroys your professional reputation."
"Not this time," I said, taking my phone back.
I called the reporter directly.
"Miss Brooks?" the reporter answered quickly. "Thanks for calling back. Can you confirm if you are refusing to transfer the Cliffhaven title back to your father's corporation?"
"I can confirm that I am the sole legal owner of Crestview Holdings LLC and the Cliffhaven property," I said clearly and distinctly into the phone. "I can also confirm that my legal team is currently preparing a formal filing for the State Attorney General’s Financial Crimes Division regarding half a million dollars in off-shore asset diversion by executive officers of Brooks Logistics Inc."
Dead silence fell over the reporter's line.
"Miss... Miss Brooks?" the reporter stammered. "Are you alleging off-shore embezzlement by Charles Brooks?"
"My lead counsel, Maya Lin, will email you the certified state registry documents within the hour," I said smoothly. "Have a wonderful afternoon."
I hung up. Maya looked at me, her eyes wide with shock, before letting out a loud, triumphant cheer.
May you like
"Natalie!" Maya laughed. "You just tossed a grenade straight into his board room!"
"He wanted an audience, Maya," I said, picking up my coffee cup, my hands perfectly steady. "Now he has one."
