Chapter 6 - The Forensic Net
Damian didn’t open Gertrude’s folder. Instead, he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen twice and placed it on speaker on the glass coffee table.
“Marcus, are you on the line?” Damian said.
A crisp, professional voice echoed from the phone. “Yes, Mr. O’Connor. The forensic audit of the foundation accounts is complete. We mirrored all server logs and traced the IP addresses as you instructed early this morning.”
Brenda’s smug expression began to slip. “Damian, who is that?”
“Marcus Cole,” Damian answered without looking at her. “Senior forensic partner at Deloitte. Continue, Marcus.”
“The sixty thousand dollars transferred over the last six months did indeed route through an old checking account registered under Fiona O’Connor’s maiden name,” Marcus reported. “However, that account had been dormant for four years. The reactivation was processed online from an IP address registered inside your residence. Specifically, the private desktop computer in Brenda O’Connor’s guest suite.”
Brenda gasped, her face draining of color. “That’s a lie! My computer was hacked!”
“Furthermore,” Marcus continued coldly, “the funds did not stay in that dormant account. Within twelve minutes of each deposit, the money was wired out to an offshore betting platform and a high-end luxury consignment store in Beverly Hills. Both accounts belong to Brenda O’Connor.”
Silence descended upon the grand living room, heavy and suffocating.
“Wait,” Gertrude stammered, stepping forward. “Marcus must have made a clerical error. Brenda wouldn't—”
“He’s not done, Mother,” Damian said, his tone chillingly calm. “Tell them about the main expansion fund, Marcus.”
Marcus cleared his throat over the speaker. “Over the past eighteen months, four point two million dollars was diverted from the O’Connor Grand renovation reserve into three shell companies registered in Delaware. The managing director of those shell companies is Gertrude O’Connor, with Brenda listed as the secondary beneficiary. The signatures authorizing those wire transfers were digital forgeries of your executive authorization.”
Julianna took two silent steps backward, completely disassociating herself from the family she had tried so desperately to court.
Gertrude’s hands began to shake violently. “Damian... darling, that money was an investment! For the family’s future! You work so hard, you don’t understand how to protect capital from taxes—”
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“You stole four million dollars from my company,” Damian whispered, stepping toward his mother. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a sledgehammer. “And then you tried to frame my wife for sixty thousand dollars to force a divorce.”
***
