Chapter 4 - The Audit Begins
Three days later, I was sitting at the dining table in Ethan's apartment, surrounded by four large banker boxes filled with paper ledgers, tax filings, bank statements, and property deeds stretching back six years.
My jaw was still tender, the dark purple bruise spreading down my neck, but my head was clear. As a forensic accountant, numbers were my natural language. They didn't lie, they didn't manipulate, and they didn't hide behind fake smiles or empty promises of family loyalty.
Ethan sat across from me, reviewing building blueprints for an upcoming firm project while keeping a watchful eye on my energy levels.
"Find anything interesting?" Ethan asked, setting down a blue highlighter.
"Interesting doesn't begin to cover it," I said, pointing my pen at a series of wire transfers from 2024. "Look at this. My father opened a secondary business account under the name Monroe Enterprises LLC three years ago. He listed himself as sole manager, but the tax ID number belongs to Eleanor's original trust."
"Is that legal?"
"Not even close," I replied, sliding a spreadsheet over to him. "He was funneling rents collected from the commercial tenants on Broad Street directly into this private LLC account instead of depositing them into the trust's master bank account. Over thirty-six months, he skimmed over $420,000 in rental income that was supposed to be preserved for estate taxes and property maintenance."
"Where did the money go?" Ethan asked, leaning in closer.
"That's the best part," I said, tapping the paper. "Half of it went to pay off personal debts—his country club dues, a luxury boat lease, and credit card bills. But the other half—over $210,000—was wired directly into an account registered under Bree’s Chic Boutique LLC."
Ethan let out a low whistle. "Brianna’s store."
"Brianna’s store didn't just fail because of bad business," I explained, pulling out a set of forged receipts. "It was a black hole. She was using estate money to fund a lavish lifestyle—flying to New York for 'buying trips,' staying in five-star hotels, buying designer clothes, and paying herself a six-figure salary while the boutique was losing fifteen thousand dollars a month."
My father hadn't just favored Brianna out of some weird emotional bias. He had actively committed grand larceny and tax fraud to keep her failing business afloat while keeping my mother completely in the dark about how close they were to total financial ruin.
"They needed you to marry Ethan," Martin Hale said, walking into the dining room after being let in by the front concierge. "Because Ethan's father's firm was planning to redevelop the entire Broad Street corridor next year."
"Exactly," I agreed, looking up at Martin. "If Brianna married Ethan, Dad was going to propose a 'joint venture' between the Monroe Estate and Cole Architecture. He assumed Ethan’s family would pour millions into the project, which would automatically cover up the missing $420,000 and inflate the value of the trust before anyone noticed the missing funds."
"And when Ethan chose you instead," Martin added, "the entire house of cards collapsed. Richard knew that as soon as you married Ethan, you would eventually look at the estate tax returns. You would see the discrepancies immediately."
"So the brick wasn't just anger," Ethan murmured, his face darkening with intense anger. "It was desperation."
"It was an attempt to silence the auditor," I said quietly.
Martin set a fresh legal envelope on the table. "Well, the auditor is very much alive, and the Henrico County Sheriff’s Department just served your parents with a formal Notice to Vacate the estate premises within fourteen days."
"How did they react?" I asked.
"Your mother screamed at the deputy until he threatened to arrest her for disorderly conduct," Martin said with a faint, satisfied smile. "And your father’s defense attorney called me ten minutes ago begging for a settlement meeting."
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"What did you tell him?"
"I told him," Martin replied, "that Katherine Monroe doesn't negotiate with criminals."
