Chapter 6 - The Forensic Audit
When Elena received the list of Derek’s counter-demands for the divorce settlement, she laughed so loud her paralegal poked her head into the conference room. Derek’s court-appointed attorney had filed a motion requesting fifty percent of my apartment’s appraised equity, claiming "sweat equity" and spousal support of eight thousand dollars a month, alleging that Clara had forced him to abandon his career to manage their household affairs.
"The audacity is almost artistic," Elena remarked, sliding the deposition notice across the table. "He claims he managed the household, yet every utility bill, HOA fee, and grocery delivery was charged to your corporate credit card. But here is the real gift: we subpoenaed his personal bank accounts and his defunct consulting firm."
"Did you find anything?" I asked, leaning forward.
Elena pulled out a thick financial binder tabbed with bright pink stickers. "Mr. Vance has been very busy over the past eighteen months. While he was telling you that his boutique marketing firm was waiting on delayed invoices from high-profile clients, he was running a secondary account through an offshore digital payment platform. Over ninety thousand dollars moved through that account."
I frowned, a knot tightening in my stomach. "Where did ninety thousand dollars come from? Derek hasn't had a paying client since 2024."
"It came from you, Clara," Elena said gently, her expression turning somber. "He was skimming from your joint household management fund. Every time you deposited funds for property taxes, insurance premiums, or home maintenance, he siphoned twenty to thirty percent into this private shell account. And do you want to know where that money went?"
I nodded slowly, bracing myself.
"Wire transfers directly to an auto-body shop owned by Suzanne’s ex-boyfriend, cash withdrawals at the Seminole Hard Rock Casino in Hollywood, and a thirty-thousand-dollar deposit on a luxury offshore timeshare in the Bahamas registered under his and his mother’s names."
A strange calm settled over me. There were no tears left to cry over Derek's deceit. The grief had been burned away the moment that boiling coffee hit my cheek; what remained now was pure, calculated clarity. He had not merely been an abusive husband with an anger problem—he had been an active embezzler running a sustained fraud operation out of my guest bedroom.
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"Is this actionable criminally?" I asked.
"Oh, absolutely," Elena replied, closing the binder with a resounding thud. "Grand theft, fraudulent financial filings in a domestic proceeding, and potentially wire fraud. When we walk into the deposition room next Thursday, his lawyer won't be arguing about alimony. He’ll be begging us not to forward this binder to the state prosecutor’s office."
