Chapter 2 - The Audit
Mark stared at me, paralyzed. He didn't turn the page. So, I reached over, grabbed the corner of the document, and flipped it for him.
Highlighted in bright, unforgiving yellow were dozens of bank transfers spanning the last four years.
“While I was spending my weekends in Boston watching my mother wither away from chemotherapy,” I said, my voice trembling not from sadness, but from pure, unadulterated rage, “I noticed our joint savings account was looking a little light. At first, I thought nothing of it. I trusted you. But then the hospital bills started piling up, and I needed to pull some cash.”
Barbara was silent, her eyes darting between me and her son.
“Imagine my surprise,” I continued, “when the forensic accountant my mother’s lawyer hired discovered that you have been siphoning marital assets for four years. Small amounts at first. Two thousand here, five thousand there. All funneled into dummy LLCs registered under David’s name.”
“Mark?” Barbara gasped, clutching the pearl necklace at her throat. “Is this true?”
“I can explain,” Mark choked out, the papers rattling in his trembling hands. “David was on the verge of a breakthrough with his new app. It was an investment, Elena. We were going to double the money and I was going to surprise you—”
“You stole ninety-five thousand dollars from our joint account, Mark!” I screamed, the sound echoing off the high ceilings of the kitchen. The sheer force of my anger made both of them flinch backward. “You drained our emergency fund while I was paying for my mother’s hospice care out of my own pocket!”
“He’s your husband!” Barbara interjected, stepping forward to defend her golden child’s enabler. “He has a right to manage the household finances!”
I turned my gaze to her, and she stopped dead in her tracks.
“Actually, Barbara, in this state, funneling marital assets to a third party without the spouse's consent is called financial dissipation. It is a form of fraud.” I reached into the envelope one last time and pulled out a thinner, much simpler document. I laid it gently on top of the audit.
“Which brings me to the grand finale,” I said smoothly.
May you like
Mark stared down at the paper. At the top, in bold, stark letters, it read: PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.
“I’m divorcing you, Mark. And because of the audit, my lawyer will be clawing back every single cent you stole from me out of your half of the equity in this house. You get nothing.”
