Chapter 4 - The Financial Audit
At 2:00 AM, the mansion was finally silent, bathed in the soft glow of emergency hallway lights.
An emergency orthopedic specialist I had called directly from Manhattan sat in the primary living room, carefully re-examining Lily’s leg. The clinic cast Beatrice had taken her to had been set poorly, causing unnecessary pressure on the fracture. Dr. Aris removed the heavy, rough fiberglass, replacing it with a lightweight, comfortable medical boot after applying proper local pain management.
Lily was finally asleep in her bed upstairs, holding her favorite stuffed rabbit, her breathing calm and deep for the first time in weeks.
Downstairs in my private study, I sat behind my mahogany desk. Beside me stood Frank Vance, my senior forensic accountant, along with Marcus.
"Victoria," Frank said, setting three thick leather binders onto the desk. "We’ve completed the preliminary audit of the estate accounts you authorized Beatrice to access while you were in London."
"How bad is it?" I asked, sipping a cup of black tea.
Frank pulled open the first binder, highlighting a long column of red figures. "In six months, she managed to drain over six hundred thousand dollars from the domestic operational fund."
I didn't even flinch. "Where did the money go?"
"She wasn't paying the estate staff," Frank revealed. "Your housekeeper, the head gardener, and the kitchen staff haven't been paid in two months. She threatened to fire them and report them to employment agencies if they spoke to you on the phone. She funneled the cash directly into her personal trading accounts, leased a new European luxury SUV under your corporate identity, and paid off two hundred thousand dollars of personal gambling debts at the riverboat casino in Atlantic City."
"And the guest house?"
"She converted the basement of the guest house into an unauthorized storage unit," Marcus added, sliding a stack of photographs across the desk. "We searched it an hour ago under the emergency warrant. It's filled with high-end artwork, antique silverware, and designer handbags stolen from your primary vault over the last ninety days. She was preparing to fence them through a local pawn syndicate next week."
I looked at the photos of my mother’s vintage jewelry and rare oil paintings stacked carelessly in cardboard boxes beside old paint cans.
"She didn't just neglect my child," I said quietly, the anger inside me hardening into diamond-grade precision. "She was systematically looting my life."
"The local police have detained her at the county precinct," Frank noted. "Her lawyer is already calling, begging for a meeting to discuss a civil settlement before grand jury indictments are handed down on Monday."
I closed the audit binder with a sharp snap. "Tell her lawyer there will be no civil settlement. I am filing for full criminal prosecution. Grand larceny, identity theft, child endangerment, and fraud. I want every single charge pursued to the maximum extent of the law."
May you like
Frank nodded grimly. "And what about her son, Mason?"
"Call child protective services and his biological father in Chicago," I instructed. "Mason needs severe psychological intervention before his mother’s influence turns him into a permanent felon. But he will never step foot on this property again."
