Chapter 2 - The Audit of Greed
Silence blanketed the boardroom like lead.
Barbara gasped loudly, her hand darting to her throat. “You can’t do this! This is Evan’s company! You’re just a bitter, barren little girl throwing a fit because my son moved on with a fertile woman!”
“Barbara, shut up!” Evan barked, his calm facade shattering completely. He stood up so fast his leather chair scraped violently against the floorboards. “Clara, you’re bluffing. You can fire me from the board, fine, but you can’t throw around slanderous words like ‘embezzlement’ without facing a massive defamation lawsuit!”
Naomi didn't even look up from her tablet. She tapped a remote control, and the ninety-inch conference room screen powered on.
A massive spreadsheet appeared, glowing bright red with flagged transactions spanning six years.
“Over the last seventy-two months,” the lead forensic accountant from Deloitte announced, stepping forward, “Mr. Vance authorized forty-eight separate wire transfers totaling $2,840,000 to an entity named Vance & Associates Events Consultancy. The registered sole proprietor of this consultancy is Barbara Vance.”
Barbara went deathly pale beneath her heavy makeup.
“That’s… that’s legitimate marketing work!” Barbara stammered, her voice rising an octave. “I organized the annual corporate galas! I coordinated high-level catering!”
“A single annual gala does not cost $600,000 a year, Mrs. Vance,” Naomi said coolly. “Furthermore, bank records subpoenaed from First Horizon Bank show that 80% of the funds funneled into Vance & Associates were immediately redirected toward personal expenditures.”
The screen shifted, displaying credit card receipts and wire transfers:
$180,000 for a three-year lease on a penthouse apartment in South End, registered to Kelsey Miller.
$95,000 for a private medical concierge and luxury maternity clinic in Atlanta.
$42,000 for a 4-carat Cartier diamond bracelet.
$310,000 in cash withdrawals executed at casinos in Biloxi and Las Vegas under Barbara Vance’s name.
Kelsey shrank into her chair, her face draining of color as she stared at the screen. She looked at Evan, her voice shaking. “Evan… you told me that apartment was leased through your private real estate portfolio! You said it was your personal money!”
“It was my money!” Evan shouted, sweat glistening on his forehead. “I am the CEO! My performance bonuses more than cover those expenses!”
“Your bonuses were tied to net corporate revenue,” I said, taking a step toward him. “Net revenue that you artificially inflated by delaying vendor payments to fifty-four small trucking contractors across North Carolina. You starved working families so you could buy your mistress a penthouse and pay off your mother’s gambling debts.”
Two plainclothes officers from the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department stepped through the boardroom doors, holding a manila folder.
“Evan Vance, Barbara Vance,” the lead officer announced. “We have an emergency freezing order issued by the North Carolina Superior Court for all personal accounts, real estate assets, and shell company holdings associated with Vance & Associates.”
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Barbara let out a dramatic shriek, grabbing Evan’s arm. “Evan! Do something! Call our lawyers!”
“Our lawyers?” I smiled, a small, cold smile. “The firm representing Whitmore Freight was hired by my father thirty years ago, Evan. They don't work for you. And as of ten minutes ago, your corporate credit cards, your company car, and your access to the executive parking garage have been revoked.”
