The Hidden Ledger
In the center of the vault sat a high-end server and a leather-bound ledger. As I flipped through the pages, my blood turned to ice.
This wasn't just Eleanor’s personal fortune. The ledger contained a detailed Forensic Audit of the St. Claire family business.
For thirty years, Eleanor had been documenting how her own children had been using Shell Companies to embezzle funds from her estate.
The bakery’s "debt" wasn't real. It was a fake paper trail created by my husband, Mark, to drain his mother’s wealth before she died.
He had systematically been committing Tax Evasion and Securities Fraud, thinking his mother was too old to notice. He didn't just want me out of the family; he wanted the bakery to be demolished so the vault—and the evidence—would be buried forever.
I sat on a pile of emeralds, watching the security feed from the bakery's hidden cameras. A black SUV pulled up outside. Two men in tactical gear stepped out, carrying industrial drills. They weren't there to bake; they were there to "liquidate" the asset.
I realized then that Mark wasn't waiting for the bankruptcy court to take the building—he was sending "contractors" to make sure I disappeared along with the evidence of his Corporate Espionage.
I grabbed the ledger and the burner phone Eleanor had left for me. The phone had one contact: The Attorney General.
The betrayal is deeper than you think.
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