Chapter 10 - THE MONEY UNDER THEIR NAMESNathan brought in an outside forensic accountant named Laura Bennett.
She did not care about Sterling family politics.
Malcolm liked her immediately.
She arrived at Sterling Development with a laptop, two notebooks, and one rule.
“Don’t tell me what you think happened.”
Malcolm frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to investigate your theory. I want to investigate the records.”
Fair.
For two days Laura worked quietly.
On the third morning, she entered Malcolm’s office.
“We have a pattern.”
“How much?”
“Approximately one hundred ninety-two thousand dollars in questionable household and lifestyle spending over six years.”
Malcolm stared.
“That’s more than Nathan estimated.”
“I included related transfers.”
“Where did it go?”
“Hotels. Fashion. Personal travel. Spa services. Private event vendors. A luxury concierge firm called Bellmere Lifestyle Services.”
“Colette used Bellmere?”
“Frequently.”
“For what?”
“Hard to tell. Some invoices are generic.”
“Why put former employees’ names on them?”
“Camouflage.”
The word made Malcolm angry.
Laura turned her screen.
“Your household operation has dozens of legitimate reimbursements every month. Groceries, repairs, transportation, staff purchases. If someone wanted to bury a personal expense, employee reimbursements are a useful place.”
“Useful?”
“Boring.”
Malcolm looked at her.
“Excuse me?”
“No executive wants to spend an afternoon reading a line item marked ‘household reimbursement—cleaning supplies.’”
She was right.
“And some were under people no longer employed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My guess? Old profiles remained active in the system.”
“Can we tell who used them?”
“Mostly.”
Laura pointed.
“Colette’s login appears often.”
“And mine?”
“Some.”
“I didn’t make them.”
“I believe you. But belief isn’t evidence.”
“What is?”
“Device logs.”
She clicked.
“Most approvals under your name came from a laptop registered to the Sterling residence.”
“Colette’s?”
“We need the device.”
Malcolm thought of her office.
“Anything else?”
Laura hesitated.
“What?”
“There are documents that look like scanned versions of your signature.”
His stomach tightened.
“Forgery?”
“I’m not calling it that yet.”
“What are you calling it?”
“Something you should show counsel.”
Malcolm leaned back.
Nearly two hundred thousand dollars would not bankrupt him.
That fact made the situation uglier, not smaller.
Colette had not needed the money to survive.
She had hidden it because she wanted freedom without accountability.
And she had used people whose jobs made them easy to blame.
“Why Denise?” Malcolm asked.
Laura looked up.
“What?”
“Why route transactions under former employees at all? Why not generic vendors?”
“Because a reimbursement linked to a person looks ordinary in a household system.”
“Even after they’re gone?”
“Unless someone checks termination dates.”
Nobody had.
Not Malcolm.
Not Nathan.
Nobody.
The people had vanished.
Their names remained useful.
Malcolm thought of Denise.
Carla.
Thomas.
Rosa.
Invisible when convenient.
Blameable when necessary.
That evening he returned home earlier than usual.
Colette was pouring wine.
He placed one printed transaction on the counter.
“What is this?”
She looked.
“An expense.”
“For Bellmere.”
“Yes.”
“Under Carla Mendes’s name.”
Colette shrugged.
“Accounting.”
“Carla was gone four years when this happened.”
“I’m not an accountant.”
“But you authorized it.”
“Then perhaps I clicked the wrong profile.”
“Twenty-seven times?”
Her hand stopped.
Malcolm placed another stack on the counter.
“And these?”
She looked at him.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“No.”
“Because it isn’t working.”
“I know about the bracelet.”
For the first time, fear flashed clearly.
“What bracelet?”
“Carla’s.”
“She stole it.”
“You found it later.”
Colette’s expression turned blank.
“Camille told me.”
That landed.
“You called my sister?”
“I called someone who knew.”
Colette’s eyes narrowed.
“She had no right.”
“Did Carla have a right to her reputation?”
“She was a bad nanny.”
“That wasn’t why you fired her.”
“She was too attached to Blake.”
Malcolm stared.
“What?”
Colette immediately realized she had said too much.
“What does that mean?”
“She blurred boundaries.”
“Blake loved her.”
“She was staff.”
“And that bothered you?”
“I was his mother.”
“So you let him believe she abandoned him.”
Colette turned away.
“Children forget.”
“He didn’t.”
Silence.
Malcolm lowered his voice.
“Did you accuse Carla because you wanted her gone?”
“No.”
“Did you find the bracelet before or after firing her?”
“After.”
“How long after?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you tell Carla?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Colette spun around.
“Because I did not owe her anything!”
The room went silent.
Malcolm stared.
Colette breathed hard.
Then Blake appeared in the hallway.
Neither adult had heard him.
His face was pale.
“You found it?”
Colette froze.
Blake stepped closer.
“The bracelet.”
“Sweetheart—”
“You said Carla stole it.”
“Blake, go upstairs.”
“You said she left because she was bad.”
“Now.”
“You lied.”
The words were small.
But they hit Colette harder than Malcolm’s accusations.
Blake’s eyes filled.
“Did she want to leave me?”
Colette said nothing.
That silence became an answer.
Blake turned and ran upstairs.
Colette moved after him.
Malcolm blocked the hallway.
“No.”
Her face twisted.
“You are turning my child against me.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“No, Colette.”
May you like
He looked at the financial records between them.
“You did that yourself.”
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