Chapter 9: What Friday Brought
The forensic accountant's name was Carol Yee.
She was fifty-five, wore reading glasses on a chain, and had spent twenty-two years untangling financial fraud for law firms and federal agencies.
Martin had worked with her three times before.
He trusted her completely.
She delivered her preliminary findings on Thursday afternoon.
The total was not four hundred thousand dollars.
It was six hundred and eighty thousand.
The additional amount had been moved through a second account Grant hadn't known existed — opened in Vanessa's name two months before the wedding, funded gradually through household expense reimbursements that had been inflated by small amounts over four years.
"She was patient," Carol said, without admiration.
"Most people get greedy.
She kept the individual amounts small enough to look like rounding errors."
Martin looked at the report.
"And the account with Paul?"
"He's a licensed financial advisor.
His firm is registered.
But two of the transfers went through a holding company that has no other activity.
That's the part that will interest the DA's office."
"You're referring this to the DA?" Grant asked.
"I'm required to.
Once fraud of this scale is confirmed, I have a reporting obligation." Carol took off her reading glasses.
"She may have known that.
She may have been counting on a private settlement to make this go away before it reached that level."
Thomas was sitting at the far end of the conference table in Martin's office.
He had been quiet for most of the meeting.
"She won't get one," he said.
Carol looked at him.
"Mr.
Whitaker, a settlement would be faster and less—"
"She told a reporter that my granddaughter was lying."
The room went still.
Carol glanced at Martin.
"Lily isn't technically—" Martin began.
"She is to me," Thomas said.
He looked at Carol.
"Continue with the referral."
Carol nodded.
She put her glasses back on.
The settlement meeting happened anyway, on Friday morning, in a conference room on the fourteenth floor of Martin's firm.
Vanessa arrived with two attorneys.
She was dressed carefully — dark suit, minimal jewelry, no diamond bracelet.
She looked composed.
She looked like a woman who had done nothing wrong and was prepared to be patient about proving it.
Her lead attorney, a man named Forsythe, opened with a prepared statement about the prenuptial agreement and Vanessa's four years of contribution to the Whitaker household.
Martin let him finish.
Then he placed Carol Yee's report on the table.
Then he placed a copy of the DA referral letter beside it.
Forsythe looked at both documents.
He picked up the referral letter.
He read it twice.
Vanessa looked at Forsythe.
Forsythe looked at Vanessa.
Something passed between them that was not reassurance.
"We'll need a recess," Forsythe said.
"Of course," Martin said.
Thomas looked across the table at Vanessa.
It was the first time they had been in the same room since she had left the house four days ago.
She met his eyes.
"I want you to know," she said quietly, "that whatever they're saying about me and that girl—"
"Vanessa." Thomas's voice was very calm.
"Don't."
She stopped.
"Whatever you were going to say," he said, "I've read thirty-one entries.
I've read Dr.
Reeves's report.
I've read the letter Lily kept." He paused.
"I don't need to hear anything else from you."
Vanessa's composure held.
But her hands, folded on the table, pressed together slightly harder.
Forsythe returned from the recess twenty minutes later.
He did not sit down.
"My client is prepared to return all transferred funds and waive any claim under the prenuptial agreement," he said.
"In exchange for the Whitaker family's agreement not to pursue the civil fraud claim."
"The DA referral is already filed," Martin said.
"That's not ours to withdraw."
Forsythe nodded stiffly.
"We understand that."
Thomas stood.
He buttoned his jacket.
He looked at Vanessa one final time.
May you like
"I hope Paul was worth it," he said.
He walked out of the conference room without waiting for her answer.
