Chapter 4 - The Audit
By noon, Nora was asleep in the master bedroom of the lake house, tucked beneath three thick wool blankets, her face finally peaceful.
I sat at the small pine dining table in the living room, surrounded by my laptop, three secure flash drives, and a legal pad filled with names, dates, and account numbers.
I picked up my phone and dialed a private number.
It rang twice before a crisp, professional voice answered.
“Marcus Vance.”
“Marcus, it’s Adrian,” I said.
Marcus Vance was a senior forensic accountant and a former JAG officer I had served with six years ago in Iraq. He now ran a high-end corporate investigations firm in downtown Raleigh.
“Adrian,” Marcus said, his tone instantly shifting into sharp focus. “I thought you weren't back state-side until Thursday.”
“Plans changed,” I replied. “I’m back early. And we need to pull the trigger on the Sullivan Logistics audit today.”
There was a brief pause on the line, followed by the sound of keys rustling. “Is Nora alright?” Marcus asked quietly. He knew the general situation regarding my family’s interference.
“She’s safe,” I said. “But my mother and brother crossed a line this morning that cannot be uncrossed. I want every asset, every account, and every corporate filing reviewed by the end of the business day.”
“Alright,” Marcus said calmly. “Let’s review what we already have in the vault.”
He opened his digital files, and I listened as he ran down the numbers we had spent six months gathering while I was deployed.
“First,” Marcus began, “the family logistics company—Sullivan Transport LLC. The company was restructured four years ago after your father passed. Your mother holds twenty percent of the preference shares, Ryan holds ten percent non-voting, and you hold seventy percent majority voting stock.”
“Correct,” I said.
“Over the last forty-eight months,” Marcus continued, “your mother and brother have misappropriated approximately eight hundred and forty thousand dollars through inflated consultancy fees, unauthorized fuel card expenses, and dummy vendor accounts registered to Ryan’s shell company in Nevada.”
“Is it clean enough for a criminal referral?” I asked.
“It’s cleaner than a fresh sheet of paper, Adrian,” Marcus said firmly. “It’s grand larceny, wire fraud, and tax evasion. They were operating under the assumption that you would never audit the family books because you were focused on your military career.”
“What about the residential deed?”
“The house in Fayetteville is registered 100% under your name,” Marcus confirmed. “Your mother’s name appears nowhere on the title, the loan, or the tax assessments. She has zero legal right to step foot on that property without your explicit permission.”
I looked out the window at the dark water of the lake.
“Marcus,” I said softly.
“Yeah, Adrian?”
“I want a formal freeze placed on all company accounts under Ryan’s access by three o'clock today. I want the locks on the main house changed by a private security detail by four o'clock. And I want eviction notices served to Evelyn and Ryan Sullivan before sunset.”
Marcus let out a low whistle over the phone. “You’re going full scorch-earth, aren't you?”
“No, Marcus,” I said, my voice as cold as ice. “Scorch-earth leaves ashes. I’m taking back what’s mine and leaving them with the debt they created.”
“Understood,” Marcus said. “Paperwork will be filed within the hour. The security team is already on standby.”
I hung up the phone, closed my laptop, and leaned back in my chair.
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My mother thought the Sullivan name belonged to her. She thought she was the matriarch of an untouchable family empire.
She was about to find out that without me, the Sullivan empire was nothing more than a castle built on sand.
