Chapter 10 - Where the Money Went
The missing money wasn’t missing from Daniel’s perspective.
It had bought a champagne gown.
A hotel suite.
A lease on an apartment near the river.
And the belief that he could start a new life without paying for the one he already had.
But the company’s accounts told a messier story.
Company counsel retained an outside accountant to review the questioned payments.
Adrienne arranged for my participation through counsel.
I didn’t have to break into a computer.
I didn’t have to steal a password.
I had to sit in a room and listen as ordinary columns became ugly sentences.
Consulting expenses with no clear work product.
Travel reimbursements for trips Daniel never took on business.
Payments to Mitchell Strategic Services.
Some had legitimate descriptions.
Some didn’t.
The accountant, Celia Grant, was careful.
“A questionable payment is not automatically fraud,” she said.
“We need invoices, approvals, and supporting records.”
“Then get them,” I said.
Daniel sat at the opposite end of the conference table.
He looked tired.
I had once loved that look.
It meant he needed dinner and sleep.
Now I wondered how often exhaustion had been another explanation I supplied for him.
“These expenses supported growth,” he said.
Celia turned a page.
“Which project required a furnished apartment?”
“Client hospitality.”
“Which clients?”
Silence.
Lauren sat beside her own attorney.
She didn’t look at Daniel.
Her attorney supplied the apartment lease and messages concerning personal use.
Daniel’s face hardened.
“You’re making yourself liable too.”
Lauren finally raised her eyes.
“I know.”
That mattered.
She wasn’t magically innocent because he had lied to her.
She had accepted money.
She had helped remove me from the story.
Now she would have to account for her choices.
Celia continued.
The questioned payments were substantial, but the company still had active projects and receivables.
The employees weren’t doomed.
Daniel had simply wanted me to believe they were.
Then the accountant showed us the ownership amendment.
“I’m not a handwriting expert,” she said.
“But this signature image appears identical across three unrelated documents.”
Adrienne leaned forward.
“Identical how?”
“Same dimensions. Same stray mark. Same edge around the image.”
Daniel pushed his chair back.
“This meeting is over.”
Company counsel didn’t move.
“No,” he said.
“It isn’t.”
Celia opened another page.
The source document was an old bank authorization.
I remembered signing it after our first profitable quarter.
May you like
Daniel had taken the signature from a day when I trusted him.
And used it to make me disappear.
