Chapter 5 - The Ledger of Blood and Greed
I signaled with two fingers.
The two men behind me—forensic accountants from Deloitte accompanied by an independent legal notary—opened their briefcases. Without a word, they began walking the perimeter of the room, placing a thick, red-bound dossier in front of every major shareholder, family elder, and board member seated at the tables.
"What is this garbage?" Lorraine sneered, refusing to touch the folder placed before her. "Ryan, call security!"
"Security has already reviewed these documents, Lorraine," I replied, resting one hand on the edge of the head table. "In fact, the club manager is currently downstairs with the local district attorney’s financial crimes division."
Uncle Charles opened his folder. His reading glasses slipped down his nose. "My God... Ryan, what is this? Are these bank statements?"
"Don't look at that!" Ryan shouted, lunging to grab the folder from Charles’s hands.
"Don't touch him, Mr. Sterling," the notary said, stepping firmly into Ryan's path. "Those are certified copies of public filings and internal corporate ledgers."
The room began to murmur, the sound rising like an approaching storm. Pages rustled. Gasps broke out from the second table, where Ryan’s cousins sat.
"Page four, everyone," I announced, projecting my voice across the grand chandeliered room. "You will find the incorporation papers for *Apex Crest Marketing*, established twenty-four months ago. Its sole director is Elena Rostova. Over twenty-four months, Ryan Sterling authorized thirty-two individual transfers from Vance & Sterling’s primary payroll reserve to this entity, totaling three million, eight hundred and forty thousand dollars."
Elena turned deathly pale, shrinking back into her seat.
"Audrey, that was legitimate consulting!" Ryan stammered, sweat breaking out across his forehead, glistening under the crystal chandeliers. "We were expanding the firm's outreach! The board approved marketing budgets!"
"The board approved forty thousand dollars, Ryan," I said. "You stole nearly four million. And where did Miss Rostova send that money?"
I turned my gaze directly onto Lorraine.
"Page seven, please. You will find the wire confirmations sent from Miss Rostova’s shell account directly to the management office of the Golden Sands Casino in Atlantic City, settling accounts for Player Number 884-Lorraine Sterling."
Lorraine’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her rouged cheeks drained of color, leaving her face looking like cracked parchment.
"Lorraine," Aunt Beatrice whispered from two tables over, horror in her voice. "You told us that money came from Arthur’s estate! You said you were funding the children's trust!"
"She lied, Beatrice," I said calmly. "Just as she lied when she stood in my kitchen on Sunday morning, shredded my dress, and told me that her son paid for every roof over my head and every bite of food in my mouth."
I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a single sheet of embossed parchment. I dropped it onto Lorraine’s dessert plate, right into the pool of raspberry coulis.
"The deed to the Meadowood estate," I said. "Purchased in cash by my grandfather's trust before I even met your son. The house was never his, Lorraine. The cars were never his. The black cards you used to buy your gowns, your jewelry, your country club memberships—they were all drawn against my family’s estate."
Ryan slammed his hands onto the table. "You set me up! You gave me access to those accounts! You let me sign the checks!"
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"I gave you enough rope to hang yourself, Ryan," I said, leaning down until my eyes were level with his. "And you built the gallows with your mother's help."
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