Chapter 5 - Paper Trails and Stolen Heirlooms
By Friday morning, Marcus Vance, my cousin and our chief financial auditor, arrived at Evelyn’s office carrying three thick leather binders. When he slammed them down on the conference table, his knuckles were white.
“He didn't just cheat on you, Claire,” Marcus said, his voice thick with suppressed rage. “He robbed the legacy blind.”
Over the past eighteen months, Grant had systematically routed over twelve million dollars from Vance Logistics’ offshore development reserves through shell corporations in Delaware. Marcus had traced the wire transfers.
Two million had gone toward purchasing an off-market penthouse in Tribeca registered under Savannah’s maiden name. Another eight hundred thousand had vanished into luxury jewelry, private jet charters to St. Barts, and offshore bank accounts intended to provide Savannah with an independent fortune.
“He thought that once the forty-nine percent vested on October 18th, he would have voting majority with his allied board members,” Evelyn explained, turning a page filled with bank authorizations. “He planned to backfill the embezzled funds with his newly acquired equity before our annual external audit in November.”
“He was gambling with my family’s blood,” I said, feeling a cold, righteous fury settle into my marrow.
“He also put up his unvested shares as collateral for a private bridge loan of six million dollars to fund Savannah’s luxury lifestyle brand,” Marcus added. “If those shares don’t vest on October eighteenth, his creditors have the legal authority to foreclose on his personal assets within twenty-four hours.”
Grant had not merely crossed an ethical boundary; he had balanced his entire life on a razor’s edge, counting on my ignorance and emotional fragility to keep him safe until midnight on the eighteenth.
I looked at the date on my watch. It was October 16th.
May you like
“Evelyn,” I said softly, “prepare the summons. And Marcus, call an emergency board meeting for Monday morning. Nine o’clock sharp.”
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