Chapter 9 - The Forensic Audit
By the following Monday, the forensic audit at Pendelton & Associates had uncovered a financial conspiracy that was far more extensive than even my preliminary ledgers indicated.
Arthur Pendelton called me from his downtown office, his voice heavy with exhaustion after spending the entire weekend reviewing seven years of manipulated corporate tax returns.
"Rachel, Greg didn't just siphon investor capital from the commercial projects; he has been systematically defrauding the corporate pension fund since 2021," Arthur revealed grimly.
He explained that Greg had forged my signature on over twenty separate corporate resolutions, utilizing my silent equity stake as collateral to secure high-interest bridge loans from predatory lenders.
Because I had formally alerted the firm and handed over my authentic documentation before the FBI initiated their independent raid, my assets were entirely shielded from seizure.
However, Greg was now personally liable for over six million dollars in fraudulent loans, and the private lenders had already initiated foreclosure proceedings on his personal real estate holdings.
"The federal prosecutors are convening a grand jury on Thursday morning, and they want to subpoena your correspondence with Greg over the last three years," Arthur informed me.
"I already instructed my attorney to deliver my entire hard drive and all original investment agreements to the U.S. Attorney’s office by noon today," I replied without hesitation.
I had spent years keeping my records meticulous, preserving every email, every signed receipt, and every text message Greg had ever sent me regarding the firm's finances.
When Thomas died, Greg had patted my shoulder at the funeral and told me not to worry about my investments because he would handle the complex business matters for the poor widow.
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He had confused my grief with ignorance, assuming that a woman mourning her husband wouldn't bother to read the quarterly balance sheets he slipped into her mailbox.
I hung up the phone with Arthur and looked at the framed photo of Thomas sitting on my desk, knowing that he would be proud of the armor I had built to protect our daughter.
