Chapter 3: What the Numbers Already Knew
Arthur called me the next morning at seven.
"Don't sign anything today," he said.
"Not the dependent closure form.
Not anything they put in front of you."
"Julian's expecting my signature by noon."
"Let him wait.
I need you to come to my office first.
There's something you need to see before you make any move."
I arrived at Arthur's office on Michigan Avenue just before nine.
It was a quiet space — no receptionist, no framed credentials on the wall.
Just two monitors, a long table covered in printed spreadsheets, and a man who looked like he hadn't slept.
He pointed to a chair across from him.
"Sit down, Genevieve."
I sat.
He turned one of the monitors toward me.
On the screen was a column of transaction records, each one dated, each one labeled with a category code.
"This," Arthur said, tapping the screen, "is the Vance family's dependent care sub-account.
Every expense request you submitted over three years ran through this account."
"I know.
Ximena controlled it."
"Ximena processed it.
But she didn't control it." He pulled up a second window.
"Julian did.
Every rejection that came back to you with Ximena's name on it — Julian had already flagged it for denial before it reached her desk.
She was signing off on decisions he had already made."
I looked at the screen.
The dates lined up exactly with the seventeen times I had called him and he hadn't answered.
"He saw the requests coming in," I said slowly.
"In real time.
He had a mobile alert set up.
Every time you submitted something, he got a notification." Arthur leaned back.
"He knew about the cardiologist's medication request within four minutes of you submitting it."
The room felt very still.
"He knew," I said.
"He knew that whole week."
"He knew.
And he flagged it for denial before Ximena ever opened the file."
I didn't say anything for a moment.
Outside, a delivery truck rumbled past on the street below.
Normal sounds.
Normal morning.
Nothing about it matched what I was sitting inside.
"What else?" I asked.
Arthur pulled up a third window.
"This is where it gets worse." He pointed to a series of transfers, each one moving between accounts I didn't recognize.
"For the past four years, Julian has been quietly shifting Vance family assets into a separate holding structure.
Shell companies, mostly registered in Delaware and one in the Cayman Islands.
The transfers started eight months before your wedding."
"Before we were married."
"Yes.
Which means he was already planning the financial structure before you became his legal spouse.
That matters." Arthur folded his hands on the table.
"Because under Illinois marital property law, assets deliberately concealed before and during a marriage are subject to fraud claims — not just divorce proceedings.
This isn't a civil dispute, Genevieve.
What he did crosses into crjminal financial fraud territory."
I stared at the numbers on the screen.
Three years of submitted forms.
Three years of rejections.
A medication that cost less than a single dinner at the restaurants Julian took Victoria to — denied within four minutes.
"How long before you can take this to someone?" I asked.
"I've already been in contact with a colleague at the Illinois Attorney General's office," Arthur said.
"Informally.
But they're interested." He paused.
"The question is what you want to do next.
Because once this moves, it moves fast.
Julian will find out.
And when he does, he will not stay quiet."
I looked at the ivory urn in my bag.
I had carried it with me without thinking about it, the way you carry something you can't put down.
"Let him find out," I said.
Arthur nodded slowly.
He reached into a drawer and slid a folder across the table.
"Then you'll need to read this before you go home tonight."
I opened the folder.
The first page was a financial summary I recognized — the Vance estate's quarterly asset report.
But the numbers on this version were different from the ones Julian had shown me when we married.
Very different.
May you like
At the bottom of the first page, one line had been highlighted in yellow.
It was Hazel's name.
