Chapter 5 - The Audit
Evelyn couldn't speak. She stood paralyzed, her hands trembling against the velvet fabric of her armchair.
“You gave him power of attorney two years ago, didn't you, Aunt Evelyn?” Nora said, her voice clinical and precise, cutting through the heavy silence of the library. “Right after Arthur suffered his stroke. You were terrified of managing the complex hedge fund portfolios on your own, and Grant was so eager to step in. Such a devoted nephew.”
Grant’s smug smile began to fray around the edges. He took a half-step toward the table. “Shut that laptop, Nora. You’re trespassing on private financial property. I can have the local sheriff here in ten minutes to throw both of you out!”
“Call him,” I challenged, stepping into Grant’s path and blocking him with my shoulder. “Call Sheriff Miller. I’m sure he’d love to review the four hundred thousand dollars in campaign contributions you funneled to his re-election from an Ashford commercial checking account that wasn’t declared on state filings.”
Grant froze, the color draining from his face as if he’d been plunged into an ice bath.
Nora continued scrolling through the spreadsheet, her voice rhythmic and deadly. “In the past twenty-four months, Grant has liquidated seventy-two million dollars from the Ashford family trust. Thirty million went into funding a fraudulent wine resort in Napa Valley that never broke ground—the money was quietly redirected to private offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Another twenty million vanished into high-risk crypto derivatives that tanked last winter. And the remaining twenty-two million?”
Nora looked up from the screen, her eyes locking onto my mother’s terrified gaze.
“The remaining twenty-two million went toward servicing the debt on three luxury auto dealerships that are currently three months behind on inventory floor-plan loans. The bank issued a foreclosure notice last Friday, Mrs. Ashford. Grant didn't come here to save your house. He came here because the bank is preparing to seize this mansion, the art collection, and the Lake Geneva property by the end of next week.”
My father stumbled. His knees gave out, and he would have crashed against the marble hearth if I hadn't caught him. I wrapped my arm securely around his fragile waist, taking his full weight, and helped him down into a plush leather armchair.
“Arthur!” Evelyn cried, rushing toward him, but my father raised a trembling hand, his palm flat, refusing to let her come within five feet of him.
“You gave away my family’s life work,” Arthur rasped, his voice thick with tears and fury. “A hundred years of Ashford honor... you handed it to a common thief.”
“Uncle Arthur, listen to me!” Grant pleaded, sweat breaking out across his forehead, soaking the collar of his expensive shirt. “It was an investment strategy! The markets went against us! If Ethan just loans us the eight-point-two million, and puts me on Lumena’s board, the institutional banks will extend our credit! We can make it all back! Ethan has billions now—eight million is pocket change for him!”
“Pocket change?” I repeated, turning to face my cousin.
May you like
I remembered sleeping on the floor of our tiny two-room apartment in Queens. I remembered Nora eating instant noodles for three months straight so we could afford server hosting fees. I remembered walking four miles through a blizzard to pitch an angel investor because we couldn't spare the seven dollars for an Uber.
“My wife worked eighty hours a week while you were popping champagne in the Hamptons,” I told him, each word cold and heavy. “Every dollar in Lumena Systems was built with sweat, sleepless nights, and Nora’s brilliant mind. You couldn't run a lemonade stand without stealing from the cash drawer, Grant. And you will never, as long as you live, touch a single dime of my company.”
