Chapter 3: The Missing Millions
I looked at Isolde.
"Say that again.""
Desmond moved first.
"She doesn't know what she's talking about.""
Isolde ignored him.
Three minutes earlier, she'd been wearing my diamonds and smiling while my husband humiliated me.
Now she looked terrified.
"He said you authorized it.""
"What exactly did he say?""
"Wren, stop.""
I turned toward Desmond.
"No.""
His nostrils flared.
"You don't conduct an investigation in a ballroom.""
"Then let's go upstairs.""
Chairman Voss had already arranged a private conference room on the hotel's twenty-third floor.
Desmond knew it.
That frightened him more.
Within fifteen minutes, the gala continued downstairs without us.
Upstairs, there was no music.
No champagne.
No chandeliers.
Just fluorescent light, a polished conference table and six people who suddenly had very little reason to pretend.
I sat at the head.
Chairman Voss took the chair to my right.
Across from me sat Desmond.
Isolde sat beside him.
Two members of the forensic accounting team entered carrying laptops.
The lead auditor introduced herself as Naomi Kerr.
"Ms. Ashcombe.""
"Ms. Kerr.""
Desmond pushed back his chair.
"This is ridiculous. I haven't agreed to questioning.""
Naomi didn't blink.
"This isn't questioning.""
"Then what is it?""
"A preliminary briefing for the majority shareholder.""
Desmond looked at me.
I held his stare.
Naomi opened her laptop.
"Three days ago, $4.8 million was transferred from Corvina Strategic Development LLC.""
"To where?"" Voss asked.
"A consulting entity called Veyron Advisory.""
Isolde's face tightened.
I noticed.
"So?"" Desmond said.
"We use consultants.""
Naomi nodded.
"We do.""
We.
Interesting how quickly Desmond returned to speaking as if Corvina belonged to him.
Naomi continued.
"The issue is that Veyron Advisory appears to have no employees, no operating website and no verifiable history of providing services to Corvina.""
Desmond folded his arms.
"That doesn't prove anything.""
"No," Naomi agreed.
"It doesn't.""
I almost admired her calm.
She clicked something.
"But the authorization record creates another issue.""
Desmond's eyes moved toward the laptop.
Naomi looked at me.
"The approval was submitted under your name, Ms. Ashcombe.""
"Impossible.""
Desmond immediately answered.
"Maybe you forgot.""
I stared at him.
He shrugged.
"You've been moving millions around buying stock. Maybe your people authorized something you didn't personally review.""
"My people didn't have access to Corvina's internal payment system three days ago.""
Silence.
Voss leaned forward.
"Who did?""
Naomi answered.
"Four executives.""
Desmond's jaw tightened.
"Names.""
"Yourself. Chairman Voss. CFO Martin Bell. And Strategic Partnerships Director Isolde Vale.""
Isolde stood so quickly her chair rolled backward.
"No.""
Everyone looked at her.
"I don't have authorization for transfers that large.""
Naomi's expression didn't change.
"You shouldn't.""
"Then why did you say my name?""
"Because your credentials were used.""
Isolde turned toward Desmond.
He wouldn't look at her.
And suddenly I understood something.
Isolde hadn't known everything.
Maybe she'd known about inflated expenses.
Maybe she'd enjoyed company-funded travel and the apartment.
Maybe she'd believed Desmond when he promised her a future.
But whatever this was, she hadn't expected it.
"Desmond," she whispered.
He looked at Naomi.
"Credentials get compromised.""
"They do," Naomi said.
"Then investigate that.""
"We are.""
"Good.""
He stood.
"Then we're finished.""
"Sit down," I said.
Desmond looked at me as if I'd slapped him.
"What did you say?""
"Sit.""
"I'm still Chief Operating Officer.""
"Until nine tomorrow morning.""
His face darkened.
Chairman Voss spoke before Desmond could answer.
"I recommend you sit.""
Slowly, Desmond lowered himself back into the chair.
I hated that a tiny part of me still remembered the man I'd married.
The young executive who used to bring me terrible coffee while I worked late.
The man who once drove six hours through a snowstorm because my grandmother was hospitalized.
Had that Desmond ever existed?
Or had I simply been useful then?
Naomi slid a printed timeline across the table.
I didn't touch it.
"Veyron Advisory was incorporated eleven months ago," she said.
"Who owns it?"" I asked.
"We're still confirming beneficial ownership.""
Desmond laughed once.
"So you have nothing.""
Naomi looked at him.
"We have the registered agent.""
The laughter stopped.
"Who?"" Voss asked.
Naomi turned her laptop.
"Mercer Fiduciary Services.""
I knew the name.
Not from Corvina.
From my marriage.
"Desmond.""
He looked at me.
"Your brother uses Mercer.""
Isolde turned sharply.
"Your brother?""
Desmond's younger brother, Callum, supposedly ran a property investment company in Boston.
Supposedly.
I'd always found it strange that a man whose projects never seemed to finish could afford houses in three states.
Desmond stood again.
"My family has nothing to do with this.""
Naomi closed her laptop.
"I didn't say they did.""
He realized his mistake.
Too late.
My phone vibrated.
Then Chairman Voss's.
Then Naomi's.
Three phones.
Almost simultaneously.
Naomi checked hers first.
Her expression changed.
"That's unusual.""
"What?"" I asked.
"Our team just attempted to preserve Mr. Ashcombe's corporate email account.""
Desmond's face went still.
"And?""
"Someone initiated a remote deletion request seventeen minutes ago.""
Chairman Voss looked at Desmond.
Desmond spread his hands.
"I've been sitting here.""
Naomi nodded.
"Exactly.""
Isolde suddenly grabbed her purse.
"I need to leave.""
Desmond caught her arm.
"No, you don't.""
She ripped herself free.
"Don't touch me.""
The irony almost made me laugh.
"Isolde," I said.
She stopped at the door.
"If you know something, this is the moment to tell me.""
"I don't.""
Desmond pointed toward the door.
"Then go.""
But Isolde didn't move.
She looked at him.
Then at me.
Her eyes filled with something I hadn't expected.
Not arrogance.
Not hatred.
Fear.
"He gave me something last week," she whispered.
Desmond went completely still.
"What?"" I asked.
"A key.""
"Isolde.""
His voice had changed.
It was low now.
Dangerously controlled.
She ignored him.
"He told me if anything happened at the company, I should empty a storage locker before anyone else found it.""
Chairman Voss rose.
"Where?""
Desmond slammed his palm against the table.
"She is lying!""
Isolde flinched.
I didn't.
I stood slowly and faced my husband.
"What is in the locker?""
"Nothing.""
"Then you won't mind us opening it.""
His eyes met mine.
For ten years, I had watched Desmond negotiate contracts, intimidate competitors and charm investors.
I knew his expressions.
His tells.
His tricks.
This wasn't anger.
It was panic.
Isolde reached into her purse.
Her trembling fingers emerged holding a small brass key attached to a plain black tag.
She placed it on the table between us.
Naomi leaned closer.
A number had been engraved into the metal.
317.
Desmond stared at it like it was a loaded weapon.
Then Isolde looked directly at me.
"He said if you ever learned what was inside that locker, Wren...""
She swallowed.
"What?""
Her next words were barely a whisper.
"...you wouldn't just divorce him.""
May you like
The room went silent.
"You'd make sure he went to prison.""
