Chapter 10 - The Unfinished Audit
The sun was dipping below the Chicago skyline, casting long, bruised streaks of orange and violet across the glass facade of the downtown skyscraper.
I signed the contract on the mahogany table with a heavy black fountain pen, the scratch of the nib sounding sharp and final in the quiet boardroom.
“Welcome to the top floor, Luca,” Marcus said, standing up and extending his hand across the table.
I stood, shaking his hand firmly. “Thank you, Marcus. But let’s get one thing straight. I’m not here to maintain the status quo. I’m here to audit every corner of this firm until it’s unbreakable.”
An hour later, I stepped out of the elevator onto the ground floor lobby, my briefcase in hand, ready to head back to the suburbs to help my mother pack her remaining belongings for her move into my downtown penthouse.
As I pushed through the revolving glass doors onto Michigan Avenue, the cool evening air hit my face, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor down the block.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, expecting a message from the moving crew or a status update from federal marshals regarding Wendy’s arraignment hearing. Instead, it was an unknown international number.
I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear.
“This is Luca Cross.”
For a second, there was only static on the line. Then, a low, distorted voice spoke through the speaker—a voice that carried an accent I hadn’t heard since my early days auditing offshore accounts in Zurich.
“Congratulations on the promotion, Mr. Cross,” the voice rasped, cold and clinical. “You successfully dismantled Arthur Vance’s local operation. But you seem to have forgotten something important.”
I stopped walking on the crowded sidewalk, my footsteps halting as my instincts locked into high alert. “Who is this?”
“Arthur was just a regional contractor, Mr. Cross,” the voice continued smoothly, ignoring my question. “The funds he was laundering for Vanguard Holdings didn't originate in Chicago. They came from a much larger portfolio managed by a group that doesn't appreciate amateur auditors poking around their balance sheets.”
A chill ran down my spine, sharp and cold despite the heavy wool coat I wore.
“If you have something to say to me, say it to my face,” I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous register.
“We’ll meet soon enough, Luca,” the voice chuckled—a dry, metallic sound. “Enjoy your victory tonight. Because tomorrow morning, you’re going to open your firm’s master ledger and discover that your mother’s retirement account wasn’t the only thing Wendy managed to drain without your permission.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
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I stood motionless on the bustling sidewalk as thousands of commuters streamed past me in a blur of gray coats and rushing footsteps. I slowly lowered the phone, my thumb lingering over the screen as the dark silhouette of the skyscraper loomed overhead.
The audit wasn't over. In fact, it looked like it was only just beginning.
