Chapter 8: Auditing the Audit
Mr. Vance adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, placing his leather briefcase flat on the marble island right next to the white pastry box. The atmosphere in the kitchen had transformed from domestic policing into a high-stakes financial interrogation.
“Co-mingled or not, Mr. Vance, my legal counsel has copies of the original wire receipts,” Elena said smoothly, bluffing slightly on the legal counsel part, though her digital footprint was entirely secure. She adjusted Clara in her arms, keeping her posture upright and unyielding. “If your firm wishes to audit this property, you’ll need to include my forensic accounting records as well. Otherwise, your report is fraudulent.”
Eleanor’s face flushed a mottled red beneath her pale skin. Her sharp features tightened until she looked like carved stone. “You insolent little—Mark, are you going to stand there and let your wife threaten our family’s legacy with lies?”
Mark swallowed hard, his white shirt collar suddenly looking too tight. He stepped toward Elena, his hand extended in a placating gesture. “Elena, sweetheart, put the baby down and let’s talk in the study. You’re being hysterical. Mr. Vance doesn’t need to see your personal files. Let’s just resolve this privately.”
“Don’t touch me, Mark,” Elena said, stepping back with a cold precision that stopped him dead in his tracks. “And don’t call me hysterical. I am the only person in this room operating with financial and moral integrity.”
Mr. Vance cleared his throat, snapping open his leather briefcase. He pulled out a thick stack of stapled documents, flipping past the cover page with practiced indifference. “Regardless of prior contributions, Mark’s name is primary on the deed. However, if there are competing claims of equity, the trust requires formal arbitration before any disbursement can occur. I cannot sign off on the new equity line until this is legally clarified.”
Eleanor’s head snapped toward the lawyer. “Nonsense, Arthur. We’ve discussed this. The property is to be secured under the family holding umbrella immediately.”
“I’m sorry, Eleanor,” Mr. Vance replied, packing the papers back into his briefcase with brisk efficiency. “My firm cannot risk litigation exposure from unverified asset claims. You’ll need to resolve this internally before we proceed.”
Within two minutes, Mr. Vance was out the door, leaving behind a silence so dense it felt physical.
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Mark turned on Elena, his mask of calm entirely shattered. “Are you insane? You just blew up our financing for the next six months! How are we going to pay the property taxes without the trust distribution?”
Elena looked at her husband with profound pity. “Maybe you should get a real job, Mark, instead of living off your mother’s allowance.”
