Chapter 2 - The Audit
The sun was barely clearing the Chicago skyline by the time I unlocked the glass doors of Grant Property Group at 6:00 AM on Monday.
The office smelled of industrial carpet cleaner and old paper—the familiar scent of my father’s legacy. For the past forty-eight hours, my phone had vibrated off the coffee table in my apartment with missed calls from Daniel, frantic text messages from Barbara demanding I "respect family protocol," and worried check-ins from Claire and Ryan.
I hadn't answered a single one.
Instead, I sat at my mahogany desk, booted up my desktop, and logged directly into our corporate master portal.
What I expected to find was a pending review status on the subsidiary transfers. What I actually found made my breath catch in my throat.
The transfer requests hadn't just been filed for review. They had been executed.
My login credentials—the master admin key that only my father and I had ever possessed—had been used on Saturday morning at 11:15 AM while I was at the salon getting my hair styled for the ceremony.
The IP address listed in the security log belonged to a secure terminal at Whitmore Family Holdings.
The door to my office pushed open.
Ryan stood in the frame, holding two paper cups of black coffee. He looked like he hadn't slept either, his jacket rumpled and his tie loosened. He walked in, set a cup on my desk, and pulled up the visitor chair.
"You look like hell," Ryan said gently.
"They didn't just draft the papers, Ryan," I said, turning the monitor toward him. "They bypassed my authorization using my father's master key. While I was getting my makeup done."
Ryan leaned over the desk, his eyes scanning the server logs. The muscles in his jaw tightened until I could see them jump. "That's not just a breach of trust. That's corporate identity theft. If they executed those deeds without your physical signature, it's forgery."
"They used a digital power of attorney," I realized, the pieces clicking together with sickening clarity. "Remember when Daniel had me sign those healthcare proxy forms for his insurance policy last month? He slipped a general asset management clause into the footer. I thought it was standard HR paperwork for spousal benefits."
Ryan slammed his hand flat against the desk, rattling my coffee cup. "The son of a bitch."
"Calm down," I said, though my own hands were shaking as I reached for the coffee. "Getting angry doesn't fix it. Lawyers do."
"I've already called Marcus," Ryan said, referring to our family attorney of twenty years. "He’s reviewing the filings now. But Liv... there’s something else. I stopped by your apartment to pick up some of your clothes before coming here."
I looked up, my stomach tightening. "Why?"
"Because Barbara was standing in your lobby with two movers and a locksmith."
I stared at him. "My apartment? My name is on the lease. I rented it two years before I even met Daniel."
"Not anymore," Ryan said grimly. "Barbara had a signed lease-termination rider claiming the unit was subleased through Whitmore Holdings. She told the building management you had voluntarily surrendered residency upon marriage under Whitmore family housing guidelines."
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed on the desk.
It wasn't Daniel.
It was an automated security alert from my personal bank account.
May you like
Your primary checking account balance has dropped below the minimum threshold. Transfer to Whitmore Family Consolidated Trust completed.
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