Chapter 9
The morning sun cast harsh rays across the glass desk in the home office. David sat buried beneath bank statements, investment portfolios, and legal notices delivered by courier overnight. The police investigation into Clara had expanded rapidly once financial auditors began combing through the household accounts.
His phone buzzed. It was a call from the corporate fraud division of his bank.
“Mr. Miller?” a stern female voice asked. “We’ve flagged a series of large wire transfers originating from your joint accounts late last night. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was moved to an offshore entity in the Cayman Islands.”
David closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the leather headrest. “I didn’t authorize those transfers,” he said flatly. “My wife did before she was arrested.”
“We’ve frozen the destination account based on the active felony warrant, but recovering the funds will require international legal cooperation and could take months,” the banker replied. “Furthermore, Mr. Miller, your personal credit line has been tapped out. There are several maxed-out credit cards opened under your name that you weren’t aware of.”
David hung up the phone without another word. The financial devastation was complete. Clara hadn't just been emotionally abusive; she had systematically hollowed out his entire financial future while he was busy climbing the corporate ladder. He stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the manicured lawn where police tape fluttered softly in the morning breeze near the front bushes.
A knock sounded at the front door. David walked downstairs and opened it to find Detective Vance—no relation to Maya—a sharp-eyed investigator with the local precinct holding a large cardboard box.
“Mr. Miller,” the detective said, stepping into the foyer. “We executed a search warrant on your wife’s personal safety deposit box at the downtown branch this morning. We found several pieces of antique jewelry belonging to your mother, along with forged property deeds and duplicate identification documents.”
David took the box, resting it on the hallway console table. “Was there anything else?”
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“Just this,” the detective said, handing over a small, heavily encrypted flash drive. “It was taped to the back of the deposit box wall. Our cyber team hasn’t cracked the password yet, but we figured it might contain personal files you should have.”
David nodded slowly. “Thank you, Detective. Please keep me updated on the arraignment.”
