Chapter 6 - The Mansion on the InvoiceThe mansion had always been Malcolm’s symbol of recovery.
After the divorce, he bought it within six months.
Stone façade.
Tall windows.
A sweeping staircase.
A dining room large enough for twenty people.
Bianca had called it a fresh beginning.
Sienna had never asked how much it cost.
That was the problem with Sienna’s old relationship to Malcolm.
She had spent years avoiding questions because questions became fights.
Now every avoided question was returning with interest.
Jonah placed the mansion invoices in front of her.
“Westbridge paid Larkspur.”
“Larkspur paid contractors.”
“Yes.”
“For work here?”
“Yes.”
He slid photographs across the table.
The stone fireplace.
Custom shelving.
Lighting fixtures.
Millwork in the grand hall.
Sienna recognized all of it.
She had stood beneath those lights while Malcolm slapped her.
“What justification did Westbridge use?”
“Executive hospitality and model-design demonstration.”
“Was the house actually used for either?”
“We found four documented investor dinners.”
“In eighteen months?”
“Yes.”
“How much personal use?”
“It’s Malcolm and Bianca’s primary residence.”
Sienna rubbed her temple.
“So what does that mean legally?”
“It means we stop speculating and let counsel analyze it.”
Jonah had learned how to handle her when she was angry.
Sienna almost smiled.
“Fair.”
“There could be a defensible business-use allocation.”
“For eight hundred forty thousand dollars?”
“Maybe part of it. Probably not all.”
“Any reimbursement?”
“Not yet.”
Jonah opened another spreadsheet.
“Here’s the bigger concern.”
The underlying subcontractors charged Larkspur approximately $2.9 million across all Westbridge projects.
Larkspur billed Westbridge $4.68 million.
Sienna stared.
“Markup of nearly one point eight million.”
“Not automatically improper.”
“If properly disclosed.”
“Correct.”
“And commercially justified.”
“Yes.”
“And not structured to evade approval.”
“Yes.”
“Which brings us back to the forty-nine-thousand-dollar invoices.”
Jonah nodded.
Sienna pushed the papers away.
“I need to know if Malcolm personally benefited beyond the house.”
“We’re tracing.”
“Do it quietly.”
“Why?”
“Because if there’s nothing else, I don’t want gossip becoming evidence.”
Jonah leaned back.
“You’re protecting him?”
“No. I’m protecting the truth.”
Across the city, Malcolm’s attorney had hired his own forensic accountant.
The results were no kinder.
“You signed approvals.”
“I told you Bianca knew my login.”
“For some approvals, maybe.”
“What does that mean?”
“Two approvals were completed from your office desktop while building-access records show you were present.”
Malcolm’s mouth went dry.
“Which ones?”
The accountant turned the laptop.
One invoice was for a custom staircase installation at the mansion.
Malcolm remembered it.
Bianca had shown him three options.
He had chosen walnut.
“Damn it.”
“You remember?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Westbridge was paying?”
Malcolm thought.
“I knew there was a company reimbursement.”
“For what purpose?”
“I hosted investors there.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did your board approve the personal benefit?”
Malcolm shook his head.
The accountant sighed.
“Then we have an accounting problem.”
That night Malcolm walked alone through the mansion.
Every room now looked like evidence.
He touched the stone counter in the kitchen.
Had Westbridge paid for it?
The brass fixtures?
The built-in cabinets?
He could not remember.
Bianca entered.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at my house.”
“You live here every day.”
“Apparently my investors live here too.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Westbridge hosts people here.”
“Four dinners.”
“Because the Boston project isn’t finished.”
“Did you mark up the renovations?”
Her expression changed.
“Larkspur charged a management fee.”
“How much?”
“Standard.”
“How much?”
“Why are you suddenly pretending you understand design procurement?”
Malcolm turned.
“Answer me.”
“Between twenty and thirty percent depending on the category.”
“For our own house?”
“For the work Larkspur managed.”
“Which means Westbridge paid your company a profit to renovate the house where you live.”
“We provided services.”
“To ourselves.”
“To Westbridge.”
Malcolm laughed bitterly.
“You hear yourself?”
Bianca stepped closer.
“You loved this house when everyone congratulated you for buying it.”
“I thought I bought it.”
“You did.”
“Then why are there eight hundred thousand dollars in project invoices attached to it?”
“Because that is how your accountants allocated the work.”
“My accountants?”
“Yes.”
“You gave them the invoices.”
“And you approved them.”
There it was again.
Malcolm’s own name.
His own signature.
His own password.
Bianca did not have to make him innocent.
She only had to remind him that he was involved.
He sank into a chair.
“What happens if Everline proves we breached the financing agreement?”
“Nothing if you replace them.”
“With what?”
“Another investor.”
“Who?”
She said nothing.
Malcolm studied her.
“You told me you had people.”
“I know people.”
“Call them.”
“I already did.”
“And?”
Bianca picked up her phone.
“No one wants to move while there’s a compliance review.”
“So Sienna freezes eighteen million and suddenly everyone disappears.”
“Welcome to finance.”
Malcolm’s anger returned.
“I built Westbridge.”
“And Sienna funded it.”
“She didn’t build anything.”
Bianca raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds like something you should tell her lawyers.”
He glared.
She turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“Upstairs.”
“To delete invoices?”
Bianca stopped.
Then slowly faced him.
“You really want to know what can destroy you, Malcolm?”
He stood.
“What?”
“Not Larkspur.”
“What, then?”
She stared directly at him.
“The valuation you gave Sienna during the divorce.”
Malcolm went completely still.
May you like
Bianca smiled without warmth.
“I wondered how long it would take you to remember.”
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