Chapter 6 - The Boardroom Confrontation
The conference room at the title company was enclosed in glass, overlooking the snowy downtown streets. The heating hummed quietly.
Ray and Daniel were already seated when I walked in. They were dressed in crisp suits, looking like successful businessmen rather than predators. Daniel gave me a patronizing smile.
“Elena. Good to see you,” Daniel said, pushing a sleek pen across the mahogany table. “We brought the notary. Let’s get this signed so we can all move on with our lives.”
I didn't sit down. I placed my heavy leather briefcase on the table and popped the latches.
“Before we sign, there are a few discrepancies in the accounting I need to clarify,” I said, pulling out a thick binder.
Ray sighed dramatically, checking his gold watch. “Elena, we agreed to the terms. Don't start playing auditor now. You’re holding up the process.”
“It will only take a minute,” I said softly. I opened the binder and slid a document across the table. “Can you explain the $45,000 transferred from Mom's retirement account to a Delaware LLC on October 14th?”
Daniel’s smile vanished. Ray frowned, leaning forward. “That was for... specialized medical care.”
“Really?” I slid another document forward. “Because Delaware state records show that LLC is registered under Daniel’s name, and the funds were immediately routed to a crypto-exchange platform.”
The silence in the room became absolute. The notary, sensing the shifting atmosphere, quietly stepped back toward the door.
“What is this?” Ray demanded, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you spying on us? You have no legal right to those records.”
“Actually, I do,” I said, my voice rising in authority. “As the newly appointed emergency conservator for Evelyn Vance, authorized by a federal judge at 8:00 a.m. this morning.”
Daniel stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. Panic was finally breaking through his arrogant facade. “You can't do that! We have power of attorney!”
“You had a forged document based on a fake diagnosis by a corrupt doctor,” I corrected him. I pulled out a glossy photograph and slammed it onto the table. It was a picture of my mother’s bruised throat and blue feet from the emergency room.
“You abandoned a freezing woman to die so you could steal her house. You thought you were dealing with a quiet little sister. You thought I was weak.”
I looked at the glass doors of the conference room.
May you like
“You were wrong.”
On cue, the glass doors opened. Detective Vance walked in, accompanied by two uniformed police officers and a federal agent in a suit.
