Chapter 5 - Six Hundred Thousand Reasons
The number stayed on my mind all night.
$612,480.
Not borrowed.
Not gifted.
Not money I had voluntarily spent helping Theresa.
Money transferred from my company through a vendor account that Robert could not connect to any legitimate service.
At 6:30 the next morning, I was sitting in our conference room with Claire, Robert, our chief financial officer, and an outside forensic accountant.
The vendor was called Northbridge Strategic Solutions.
The address belonged to a mailbox service.
Its listed phone number had been disconnected.
Payments had begun twenty-two months earlier.
Small at first.
$8,400.
$11,200.
$9,700.
Amounts designed not to attract attention.
Then they grew.
Someone understood our internal approval system.
Someone knew exactly where the review thresholds were.
Daniel had once done consulting work for my company.
For six months.
He had access.
I remembered the day I gave it to him.
He had kissed me and joked, “Now you officially trust me with the kingdom.”
I had laughed.
Now nobody in the conference room was laughing.
“Can we prove he made the transfers?” I asked.
“Not yet,” the forensic accountant said.
“Then we don’t accuse him.”
Claire nodded.
“Correct.”
The investigation continued.
By noon, we found Northbridge’s bank.
By evening, legal requests were underway.
Meanwhile, Aaron finally called Lauren.
She recorded nothing secretly; instead, following legal advice, she simply documented the contact afterward.
He wanted his laptop.
Lauren refused.
Then he wanted money.
She refused again.
Finally, he threatened to tell everyone that the financial mess was her fault.
That was when Lauren did something I never expected.
She called me.
“I’m done protecting them.”
“Good.”
“I want to help.”
“Then tell the truth.”
And she did.
Lauren admitted she had overspent.
She admitted she had enjoyed being Theresa’s favorite.
She admitted she had mocked me because Theresa constantly framed me as arrogant.
But Lauren also produced emails showing Aaron directing business expenses.
One included instructions to invoice Northbridge.
My blood ran cold.
The connection was real.
Northbridge had paid Lauren’s company.
Lauren’s company had paid expenses for Aaron.
Money had traveled from my company through a fake vendor and into their lifestyle.
I sat alone in my office after everyone left.
The city lights came on below.
For years, I had thought I was helping.
Instead, my generosity had become camouflage.
At 8:15, Daniel appeared downstairs.
This time, I agreed to meet him in the lobby with security nearby.
He looked older.
“Did Aaron steal from your company?”
I studied him.
“You tell me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Your credentials were used.”
His face went pale.
“He had my password.”
“Why?”
“We worked together on something.”
“What?”
Daniel looked away.
I knew immediately.
“Northbridge?”
He nodded.
“Daniel.”
“I thought it was legitimate consulting.”
“How much did you receive?”
“Nothing.”
I stared at him.
“Try again.”
“Twenty thousand.”
“Try again.”
His shoulders dropped.
“Forty-five.”
My stomach turned.
“You received forty-five thousand dollars from a fake vendor funded by my company?”
“I didn’t know where the money came from.”
“You never asked?”
“Aaron said it was investor money.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
There was the most truthful thing Daniel had said in days.
He wanted to.
Because the lie was profitable.
“What happened to the money?”
“Debt.”
“Your debt?”
“Yes.”
“The $190,000?”
He nodded.
I felt almost calm.
“Leave.”
“Mari, please.”
“Leave.”
“I can help prove Aaron did this.”
“Then talk to my attorney.”
He reached for my hand.
I stepped backward.
That hurt him.
I saw it.
But I didn’t apologize.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You just repeatedly chose things that required hurting me.”
He had no answer.
After he left, Claire called.
The bank information had started arriving.
Northbridge Strategic Solutions was controlled through another entity.
That entity belonged to Aaron.
But Daniel had been listed as an authorized manager during its first six months.
The next morning, investigators became involved.
I cooperated fully.
So did Lauren.
Daniel eventually did too.
Theresa did not.
She insisted Aaron was being framed.
By me.
Apparently I had somehow invented two years of bank records because I was upset about dinner.
Then something changed.
Aaron returned.
Not to apologize.
To negotiate.
He contacted Claire and offered to provide information in exchange for my agreeing not to pursue certain civil claims.
Claire’s response was simple.
“No.”
He tried Daniel next.
Then Theresa.
Finally, he came to the house.
Theresa called me in hysterics.
“He says everything is your fault!”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because he wants the folder!”
My pulse jumped.
“What folder?”
“The blue one!”
I froze.
“How does he know about it?”
“I told him.”
Of course she had.
“Theresa, listen carefully. Do not give him anything. If you feel unsafe, contact the authorities.”
“He’s my son!”
“Then make your own decision.”
She started sobbing.
For once, I couldn’t rescue her.
That evening, I received an email.
From Aaron.
Subject:
YOU DON’T KNOW DANIEL.
There was one attachment.
A photograph.
I opened it.
Daniel was sitting in a restaurant with Aaron.
The timestamp was eight months earlier.
On the table between them was a document.
I enlarged it.
My company logo.
Below the photograph, Aaron had written:
Ask your husband whose idea Northbridge really was.
I stared at the screen.
Then another email arrived.
One sentence.
May you like
You married the man who started it.
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