Chapter 2 - The Audit
The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling glass of my hotel suite, casting long shadows across the dining table where Harrison Vance had laid out five thick financial binders.
My mother was resting in the adjacent bedroom, her knees wrapped in cold compresses provided by the home nurse I hired. For the first time in two years, she had slept eight uninterrupted hours without being woken up to clean a kitchen or answer to a condescending lecture from Julian.
I poured two cups of black coffee and sat down across from Harrison.
"How bad is it?" I asked.
Harrison pulled off his reading glasses and rubbed his temples. "Worse than we thought. Julian didn't just take over the house, Natalie. He operated a shell company out of the secondary office space on the ground floor. He registered a limited liability company called Apex Horizon Logistics using your mother's address."
My hands tightened around the coffee mug. "Using her credit?"
"He added himself and Khloe as authorized users on three of your mother's primary credit cards—cards that were linked to the bank account you funded monthly from Dubai," Harrison said, sliding a ledger toward me. "Over twenty-four months, they ran up over $140,000 in personal expenses. Luxury clothes, fine dining, leased vehicles, and even a three-week trip to Cabo last winter."
I scanned the charges. Dates, amounts, locations. While I was working twelve-hour shifts in fifty-degree Dubai heat, managing logistics contracts for international shipping lines, my sister and her husband were popping champagne on my mother's dime.
"What about the cash allowance?" I asked.
"Completely drained every month within forty-eight hours of your wire transfer," Harrison replied. "Your mother was left with barely $200 a month for groceries. She was buying her own medicine from discount bins while Julian was drinking fifty-dollar scotch."
A cold, burning knot formed in my stomach. The anger wasn't loud; it was surgical.
"What's our immediate legal standing regarding the house?"
"Since you changed the locks last night under the emergency trustee powers, they cannot re-enter without committing criminal trespass," Harrison said. "However, Julian's attorney called my office at seven this morning. They're filing an emergency injunction in Travis County District Court, claiming unlawful constructive eviction. They're trying to force you to grant them ninety days of access."
"Ninety days?" I laughed bitterly. "So they can destroy the property?"
"They claim they left personal property inside—expensive watches, business documents, high-end electronics," Harrison said. "If the judge grants a temporary restraining order, you might be forced to let them back in while the court date is set."
"Not happening," I stood up, grabbing my keys. "We're going to the house right now with a professional inventory crew. Every item that isn't backed up by a receipt with their names on it stays inside under lock and key."
Thirty minutes later, my black SUV pulled up to the Austin estate.
The lawn was clear, but parked down the street was Julian's silver Mercedes—the very car financed through a personal loan he had pressured my mother into co-signing eighteen months ago.
Julian was sitting in the driver's seat. As soon as he saw my vehicle, he threw his door open and marched over, flanked by a young man in a cheap suit carrying a leather portfolio.
"Natalie!" Julian yelled, his eyes bloodshot. He had traded his silk robe for a wrinkled designer shirt. "You think you're clever? This is Mr. Adler, my legal counsel. You violated Texas Property Code Section 92.0081!"
The young lawyer stepped forward, trying to sound imposing. "Ms. Reed, my client demands immediate entry to recover his personal effects and resume lawful occupancy pending a formal hearing."
I didn't even look at the lawyer. I looked straight at Julian.
"The Mercedes you're driving," I said softly. "Whose name is on the title?"
Julian blinked, taken aback. "What?"
"The bank account used for the down payment was account ending in 4092," I said, pulling up my phone screen. "That is my mother's primary savings account. The account I funded. You used $15,000 of her money to put down on that car, and you listed her as the primary guarantor."
Julian's lawyer looked down at his papers, suddenly uneasy. "Client, is that accurate?"
"That has nothing to do with the house!" Julian snapped, his voice rising. "She signed the papers willingly!"
"She signed them under duress because you told her I would cut off her medical insurance if she didn't cooperate," I said, stepping closer until I was inches from his face. "That's not co-signing, Julian. That's fraud under Texas Penal Code Section 32.53—Exploitation of a Child, Elderly Individual, or Disabled Individual. A third-degree felony."
The lawyer immediately stepped back, closing his binder. "Mr. Vance... my client did not inform me of a potential elder exploitation investigation."
"Because there isn't one!" Julian shouted, turning on his lawyer. "She's bluffing!"
"I don't bluff," I said coolly as Harrison pulled up behind us with a court reporter and two private investigators. "Harrison, present Mr. Adler with the draft of the criminal complaint we're filing with the District Attorney at noon."
Harrison handed the paper over. The lawyer read it for ten seconds, his face going completely pale.
"Mr. Vance," the lawyer said to Julian, "we need to talk privately right now. If these financial records are verified, you are facing grand larceny and felony elder abuse charges."
Julian looked at the paper, then at the locked front door of the mansion, and finally at me. For the first time, the smug mask cracked, revealing the panicked coward underneath.
May you like
"Natalie," Julian stammered, his voice suddenly desperate. "Khloe is your sister. You wouldn't put your sister's husband in prison."
"Try me," I said, turning my back on him as the locksmith opened the front door for me. "You have until noon to return the keys to that Mercedes, or the first arrest warrant gets issued before lunch."
