Chapter 8: The Hidden Ledger
Eleanor’s arrogant posture shattered.
"You have no right to look at my private accounts!" she shrieked, lunging toward Marcus to grab the files.
"They aren't private, Eleanor," I said, my voice slicing through the room like a whip. "They are corporate funds. And as of this morning, I approve every dime."
Marcus handed me the files. It took me less than three minutes to find the rot.
For the past five years, Eleanor had been siphoning millions from the company’s philanthropic wing. She wasn't donating to charity; she was funneling the money into shell companies to fund her lavish lifestyle—private jets, European villas, and millions in designer jewelry.
I looked up from the papers. The silence in the room was deafening.
"Embezzlement," I said quietly. "Corporate fraud. Tax evasion."
Eleanor was trembling so violently she had to hold onto the back of a chair to stay upright. The venomous matriarch was gone, replaced by a terrified old woman facing a prison sentence.
"Lauren, please," Eleanor whispered, the word tasting like poison on her tongue. "It’s family money. I was entitled to it. Daniel always looked the other way."
"Daniel was blinded by loyalty," I corrected her. "I am not."
I closed the folder and tossed it onto the desk.
"You have two options," I told her. "Option A: I hand these files to the federal authorities. You will spend the rest of your life in a federal penitentiary, and your precious social circle will watch you burn."
May you like
Eleanor choked back a sob. "And Option B?"
"Option B," I smiled. "You sign away every single personal asset you own back to the trust. The houses, the cars, the jewelry. Everything. And then, you leave this city. Forever."
