Chapter 7: The Full Audit
Richard answered on the first ring.
"How bad is it?" I said.
"Sit down, Vivian."
I was already sitting.
I had taken the phone into the bedroom and closed the door.
Through the wall I could hear Julian still in the study.
Eleanor had gone quiet.
"Tell me," I said.
"The forty-three thousand from the household account didn't go to Derek." Richard's voice was steady, professional, the voice he used when he needed me to stay calm.
"It went to a separate account.
One Eleanor opened fourteen months ago under a business name.
Voss Family Holdings LLC."
"She formed an LLC."
"Registered in Delaware.
Julian is not listed as a member.
Derek is listed as the managing partner.
Eleanor is listed as the founding member."
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"She moved his money into a company he doesn't know exists."
"Correct.
The wire transfers to Derek that we identified earlier were technically transfers from the joint account into the LLC operating account.
Then from the LLC to Derek personally for what's described in the records as management fees."
"Management fees."
"Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars in management fees over fourteen months."
"Richard."
"There's more." A pause.
"Eleanor applied for a business line of credit against Voss Family Holdings.
The application listed the penthouse as a potential collateral asset."
The room went very still.
"She listed my property," I said.
"She listed the address.
She did not have the deed.
The application was flagged by the lender because the title search came back in your name.
They rejected it six weeks ago.
Eleanor was notified by letter."
"She knew the penthouse was in my name six weeks ago."
"Yes."
I thought about tonight.
About Eleanor standing in the kitchen, lifting her chin, calling me desperate.
Telling Julian I was making up stories.
She had known for six weeks exactly whose name was on that deed.
And she had stood there and called it a forgery anyway.
"Richard," I said.
"Is any of this criminal?"
A careful pause.
"That depends on jurisdiction and intent.
The LLC structure itself is legal.
The transfers could be characterized as unauthorized if Julian can demonstrate he didn't consent to the household account being used that way.
The collateral application using your property address without your knowledge or consent is a different matter.
That one I'd want a real estate fraud specialist to review."
"Get one."
"Already sent an email.
I'll have a name for you by morning." Another pause.
"Vivian.
Julian genuinely didn't know about the LLC."
"I know."
"The account was opened before you were pregnant.
Before he started giving her the full paycheck.
She had this structure in place before he handed her control."
"She set it up first," I said.
"Then convinced him to give her everything."
"That's what the timeline shows."
I looked at the closed bedroom door.
"He's in the study.
He asked to speak with you."
"I'll take his call tonight."
"Richard." I paused.
"When he calls you.
Tell him everything.
Don't soften it."
"Are you sure?"
"He deserves to know what was actually done to him."
A brief silence.
"All right."
"Thank you." I ended the call.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment.
My hand rested on my stomach.
The baby moved — a small, slow shift, the kind that happened when I'd been still too long.
"I know," I said quietly.
"I know."
I got up and opened the bedroom door.
Julian was standing in the hallway.
He had the legal pad in his hand.
He had clearly been about to knock.
"I heard you on the phone," he said.
"Was that Richard?"
"Yes."
"Is it worse than the bank statements?"
I looked at him.
At the legal pad.
At the pen still tucked behind his ear from the study.
"Call him," I said.
"He's waiting for you."
Julian's hand tightened on the legal pad.
"Vivian.
Just tell me.
Is it worse?"
"Yes," I said.
"It's considerably worse."
He stood very still.
"Your mother formed a company," I said.
"In Delaware.
Fourteen months ago.
Your name is not on it.
Derek's is."
The legal pad dropped to the floor.
He didn't pick it up.
He walked past me to the bedroom, took out his phone, and dialed Richard's number from the card I had left on the nightstand two hours earlier, before any of this started — because I had known, when I put it there, that he would need it before the night was over.
I picked up the legal pad from the hallway floor.
On it, in Julian's handwriting, was a single column of numbers.
Every transfer he could remember authorizing.
Every paycheck.
Every month.
May you like
At the bottom, he had written one question.
*Where did it actually go?*
