Chapter 3 - The Foundation of Sand
An hour later, the house was entirely clear of guests. The dining table had been cleared of the cake and the china, replaced by the biometric safe.
Because the house was legally in my name, and the safe was built into the fixture of the property, the forensic technician had the authority to force it open. She used a heavy drill on the hinges. The metal gave way with a sharp crack.
Inside were two items: a stack of USB drives and a thick, leather-bound ledger.
Daniel sat on the sofa, heavily guarded by a detective, rubbing his face. Vivian sat rigidly in an armchair, refusing to look at anyone.
Elena opened the ledger and ran her finger down the columns. She looked up at my father, her expression grim. “It’s here, Marcus. Every wire transfer. Every offshore dummy corporation.”
“What transfers?” Daniel demanded, standing up. “Mom, what is she talking about?”
“Sit down,” the detective barked, pressing a hand to Daniel's chest.
I walked over to the table and looked at the ledger. I recognized the account numbers. They were the operating accounts for my family's construction firm. Next to them were staggering withdrawal amounts, masked as material costs and subcontractor fees. Millions of dollars.
“You’ve been embezzling,” I said, looking at Vivian.
“I was securing my future,” Vivian snapped, her composure cracking. “Your mother was an arrogant fool who thought she could monopolize the commercial zoning in this city. We deserved a piece of it.”
But Elena shook her head. “This isn't just embezzlement, Claire. Look at the dates.”
I traced the line Elena pointed to. The massive transfers hadn't started a year ago, or even two years ago. The first multi-million dollar siphon occurred four years ago.
A year before I even met Daniel.
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I looked at my husband. He was staring at the ledger with genuine shock. He had spent three years beating me down, convincing me I was crazy, isolating me to steal my shares—but he hadn't planned the theft. He had been drafted into it.
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