Chapter 7: Before the Audit
My sister Claire had been a paralegal for eleven years before she moved to Portland, and she knew every family law attorney in the city.
By two o'clock that afternoon I was sitting across from a woman named Patricia Howe in a quiet office on the fourth floor of a building downtown.
I laid out everything.
The affair.
The money.
The audit in three weeks.
Dana's emails.
Patricia listened without interrupting.
She had a yellow legal pad and she wrote on it in small, precise letters, and when I finished she set her pen down and looked at me.
"First question," she said.
"Do you want to save the marriage?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's honest.
It's also fine — you don't need to decide that today.
But it affects strategy, so keep thinking about it." She picked up her pen again.
"Second question.
Are you on the business account?"
"No.
Max handles all of that."
"Are you on the joint savings?"
"Yes."
"Then you have standing to request a full accounting of that account going back two years.
I'd recommend doing that immediately, before anything else moves." She wrote something.
"The portion taken from your daughter's account — is that a custodial account in both your names?"
"Yes."
"Good.
Same thing — full statement, immediately." She looked up.
"The business side is more complicated.
If there's been improper categorization of personal funds as business expenses, that's a matter for a forensic accountant and potentially a corporate attorney.
Do you have access to any of his business records?"
"No."
"Does Dana?"
"She forwarded herself emails.
She has documentation."
Patricia nodded slowly.
"She may be a useful witness.
Willing or otherwise." She set her pen down.
"I want to be clear with you about something.
I don't know yet whether what Max did crosses a legal line.
It may be financial mismanagement.
It may be something more.
But either way, you need to protect yourself and your daughter before that audit happens.
Because once the audit starts, things move fast and they don't always move in the direction of the person who waited."
I looked at my hands.
"He doesn't know I'm here," I said.
"Good.
Keep it that way for now."
I drove home.
Max's car was in the driveway.
He was in the kitchen when I walked in, and he'd made lunch — sandwiches on the counter, cut the way Lily liked them, triangles with the crusts off, even though Lily wasn't home.
I think he'd needed something to do with his hands too.
"How was it?" he asked.
"Fine."
"What did she tell you?"
"Everything you already told me, mostly." I set my bag down.
"I want to see the Henderson account records, Max."
His face changed.
"Why?"
"Because forty thousand dollars of our money is in them somewhere and I want to know exactly where."
"I'm handling it."
"You keep saying that.
But you've been handling it for two months and it's gotten worse, not better." I sat down at the table.
"Patricia Howe thinks we need a forensic accountant before the audit."
The sandwich he was holding went back to the plate.
"You talked to a lawyer."
"Yes."
"Today."
"Yes."
He sat down slowly.
"You moved fast."
"You moved faster.
You just moved in the wrong direction." I looked at him.
"I'm not trying to destroy you, Max.
I'm trying to understand what I'm standing in the middle of.
And I can't do that without information."
"If you bring in a forensic accountant, it could trigger—"
"I know what it could trigger.
Patricia explained it." I kept my voice even.
"But here's the alternative.
The audit happens in three weeks.
They find the irregularities.
And I'm standing next to you with no documentation, no legal counsel, and no record of having done anything to protect myself or Lily.
Is that what you want?"
He put his head in his hands.
"I was going to fix it," he said.
"I just needed more time."
"There isn't more time."
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he looked up.
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The Henderson account — it wasn't just me.
There's a partner.
Someone who knew what I was doing and helped structure it."
"Who?"
He pressed his lips together.
"Max.
Who?"
May you like
"My brother," he said.
"Daniel."
