Chapter 3 - The Audit
The library became a war room.
By 11:30 p.m., the grand mahogany table was covered in leather-bound household ledgers, printouts of bank transfers, and payroll sheets dating back five years. Harrison had not gone to sleep. Instead, he had called his personal corporate attorney, Arthur Vance, and his chief financial officer, a sharp, no-nonsense woman named Sarah Jenkins. Both had arrived within thirty minutes, sensing the absolute gravity in Harrison's voice over the phone.
Anna and Sophie sat in the corner of the room on the green sofa. Sophie had fallen asleep, her head resting in her mother's lap, her stomach finally full. Anna watched the wealthy professionals tear through the household records with a mixture of hope and terror.
"It’s a systematic skimming operation, Harrison," Sarah Jenkins said, tossing a red pen onto a ledger. She looked exhausted but angry. "Mrs. Petrov has been maintaining two sets of books. One set, which she submitted to your family office for reimbursement, showed a full staff of twenty-four cleaners, gardeners, and kitchen workers, all paid at competitive Boston union rates."
"And the second set?" Harrison asked, his jaw clenched.
"The second set shows she laid off half the staff eighteen months ago," Sarah explained, pointing to a spreadsheet. "She kept the remaining twelve, like Ms. Miller here, working double shifts for half the pay. She manufactured fake 'deductions'—laundry fees, breakroom rent, parking permits—and took those cash deductions directly out of their envelopes. The money she saved, along with the salaries of the ghost employees she kept on your payroll, was routed directly to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands."
Arthur Vance looked up from a stack of bank drafts. "We're looking at close to $1.2 million embezzled over the last four years alone, Harrison. She didn't just steal from you. She actively starved your staff to fund a luxury condominium she bought in Miami under her sister's name."
Harrison closed his eyes. The sheer scale of the betrayal was staggering, but what sickened him more was his own negligence. He had trusted Mrs. Petrov implicitly. He had allowed his grief and his desire for isolation to blind him to the reality of the world right outside his study door.
"Where is she?" Harrison asked.
"Marcus has her in the security office downstairs," Arthur said, referring to the estate’s head of physical security. "She tried to pack a suitcase and leave through the service gate, but we locked down the perimeter the moment we found the secondary ledger in her desk."
Harrison stood up. He walked over to the sofa where Anna was sitting. He looked down at the sleeping child, her face peaceful now, the taped shoe peeking out from beneath the fringe of her skirt.
"Ms. Miller," Harrison said softly. "I cannot undo the pain and the hardship my ignorance has caused you. But I promise you, by sunrise, the woman who did this to you will be in handcuffs. And your life will never look like this again."
Anna looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "Mr. Blackwell... I don't know what to say. I was so afraid of you. We all were. We were told you hated the sight of us."
"That is a lie Mrs. Petrov manufactured to keep you from speaking to me," Harrison said, his voice thick with emotion. "And it is a lie that ends tonight."
He turned back to his attorney. "Arthur, call the Boston Police Department. Tell the commissioner I want detective units here immediately. And Sarah—"
"I’m already writing the checks, Harrison," Sarah said, predicting his next move. "I'm calculating the back-pay for every single member of the domestic staff, including the ones Petrov wrongfully terminated, with an additional thirty percent interest rate for pain and suffering. Anna’s back-pay alone is going to be close to eighty-five thousand dollars."
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Anna gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. Eighty-five thousand dollars. It was more money than she had ever seen in her life. It was a deposit on a home. It was security. It was a future for Sophie.
"That is a start," Harrison said, his eyes darkening as he thought of the head housekeeper downstairs. "But we are not finished. Not by a long shot."
