Chapter 8 - The Audit UnveiledVanessa frowned, looking at the black folders. “What is this garbage?”
“That is an itemized forensic audit of Mom’s bank accounts from the last twenty-four months,” I said, stepping closer to the table. “Aunt Susan, did you know that the $15,000 you lent Mom last year for 'roof repairs' went directly into Greg’s private cryptocurrency account?”
Aunt Susan gasped, her head snapping toward my mother. “What?”
“And Uncle Raymond,” I continued smoothly, turning to my uncle. “The $20,000 family loan you provided to help Mom pay her property taxes was transferred six days later to pay off Vanessa’s credit card debt at a luxury resort in Cabo.”
“Camille! Shut your mouth!” my mother shrieked, bolting upright from the sofa, her hands trembling violently.
“Page 12 shows the grand finale,” I said, ignoring her completely. “Mom took out a $120,000 secret HELOC on this house, emptied my late father’s $45,000 medical trust fund, and transferred every dime to Greg and Vanessa. They are currently $185,000 in debt, facing active bank foreclosure, and three counts of grand theft fraud.”
The room went completely, utterly silent.
Aunt Susan stood up, her face pale with shock as she grabbed one of the black folders and began frantically flipping through the bank statements, cancelled checks, and wire transfer receipts.
“Helen...” Aunt Susan whispered, staring at my mother with utter horror. “Is this true? You used my roof money for a crypto account?”
“She’s lying!” Vanessa screamed, jumping out of her chair and trying to snatch the folder from Aunt Susan’s hands. “She fabricated those documents to make us look bad!”
“I am a certified independent billing auditor,” I said coldly. “Every document in that folder is certified by the central banking portal and signed by a forensic accountant. Fabrication of these records is a federal felony—which I am more than happy to report to the State Prosecutor's Office tomorrow morning.”
Vanessa froze. She looked at my mother, then back at the folder, her eyes wide with panic.
My mother sank back onto the sofa, covering her face with her hands, weeping silently.
Uncle Raymond slammed his fist onto the side table, shattering a porcelain teacup. “You stole from your own family, Helen? You took our money to cover for this parasite?” He pointed a shaking finger at Greg’s empty chair.
“I didn't steal!” my mother sobbed. “I was going to pay it back once Greg’s business took off!”
“Greg’s business was a scam!” Uncle Raymond roared.
I picked up my briefcase, feeling zero pity, zero regret, and zero guilt.
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“My condo is off-limits,” I said clearly. “If any member of this family sets foot on my property, contacts my subleased tenant, or sends me another threatening message, these audit folders go straight to the District Attorney, the State Tax Fraud Bureau, and the bank’s criminal investigation unit.”
I turned, walked out the front door, and stepped into the cool night air where Ethan was waiting.
