Chapter 5 - THE AUDIT AND THE ARRAIGNMENT
By 2:00 PM that afternoon, I was back in San Diego.
I didn't bring my daughters. I left them in Phoenix with my sister, safe from the storm that was about to hit the city.
I walked into the high-rise offices of Pendelton & Associates in downtown San Diego. Arthur Pendelton, a distinguished man in his late sixties with silver hair and sharp blue eyes, was waiting for me in his corner office. He had been Walter Miller’s personal attorney for thirty years.
On his mahogany desk were three thick black binders stamped with the seal of the California Department of Business Oversight.
"Brenda," Arthur said, standing up to shake my hand warmly. "I'm so sorry for what you’ve been put through over the last few months. But I am relieved you’re here."
"How bad is it, Arthur?" I asked, taking a seat across from him.
Arthur leaned back, sighing heavily. "It’s a disaster for Raymond, but a massive opportunity for you and the girls. When Teresa presented those documents at the party last night, she didn't just expose a family scandal—she handed us the key to a massive corporate fraud."
He opened the top binder.
"For the past thirty-six months, Raymond has been writing off personal expenses as 'consulting fees' under a shell company registered to Gavin. Total amount stolen from Pacific Oak Crafting: 1.8 million dollars."
I gasped. "1.8 million? How did he hide that from the quarterly reports?"
"He forged your digital signature on the secondary authorization forms after you filed for divorce," Arthur revealed, pointing to a signature page. "He thought that once the divorce was finalized and you were out of the state, he could blame the missing funds on 'market restructuring' and write them off."
"That’s grand larceny and corporate forgery," I stated flatly.
"Exactly," Arthur confirmed. "The District Attorney’s office has already formally charged Raymond. He was arraigned this morning at the central courthouse. Bail was set at one million dollars. His mother, Florence, tried to post bail using the La Jolla house as collateral, but because the house is tied up in Walter’s trust—which I control—her request was denied. Raymond is currently sitting in a cell at the San Diego County Jail."
A strange, quiet coldness washed over me. The man who had sneered at me twenty-four hours ago, telling me I would come crawling back to him, was now wearing an orange jumpsuit behind bars.
"What about Gavin?" I asked.
"Gavin is fleeing," Arthur said with a faint smile. "As soon as he realized the DA was looking into his shell company, he packed his bags. But there’s a federal warrant out for his arrest for tax evasion and conspiracy. He won't get far."
Arthur pulled a legal document from the second binder and pushed it across the desk toward me.
"This is where you come in, Brenda. Under Section 4 of the Pacific Oak Corporate Charter—which you insisted on writing when you invested your six million dollars sixteen years ago—any shareholder convicted of felony embezzlement against the corporation automatically forfeits their voting rights and board position."
I looked down at the document. I remembered writing that clause years ago to protect the company against Gavin’s wild ideas. I never dreamed it would be the weapon that brought Raymond down.
"With Raymond’s 33 percent frozen and stripped of voting power," Arthur explained, "your 43 percent gives you absolute, unassailable majority control of Pacific Oak Crafting. Furthermore, as Walter’s court-appointed legal conservator, I am exercising his 24 percent to back you completely. You are now the Chief Executive Officer and majority owner of the enterprise."
I touched the smooth parchment of the corporate resolution. "And the shares?"
"Once the criminal proceedings conclude," Arthur smiled, "Raymond’s forfeited shares will be liquidated to pay back the 1.8 million dollars he stole. Those shares will be absorbed directly into a irrevocable trust established for Gaby, Paige, Maya, and Zoey. Your four daughters will officially own 76 percent of Pacific Oak Crafting."
I leaned back in the leather chair, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the San Diego bay.
Florence had spent sixteen years chasing a male heir to secure the family legacy. And in the end, her obsession had stripped her sons of everything and handed the entire empire over to the four girls she had dismissed as "useless."
May you like
"There’s one last thing, Brenda," Arthur said softly. "Florence is downstairs in the building lobby. She’s been waiting for three hours. She wants to see you."
I looked at Arthur, my eyes clear and cold. "Send her up."
