Chapter 3 - The Audit & The Missing Funds
Z
By Monday morning, the news of the broken engagement had not yet reached the glass-walled offices of Apex Digital Publishing in downtown San Diego, but Abigail moved through the hallways like a targeted missile. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit with her dark hair swept into a tight, immaculate bun, she projected the unyielding authority that had made her one of the youngest corporate directors in the company's history.
She didn't head to her corner office first. She walked straight into the finance wing, bypassing two administrative assistants, and knocked once on the door of Arthur Pendelton, the chief financial auditor.
Arthur looked up from his dual-monitor setup, adjusting his round wire-rimmed glasses. "Abigail? You’re early. The editorial review isn't until two."
"This isn't about editorial, Arthur," Abigail said, closing the frosted glass door behind her and sliding a encrypted USB drive onto his desk. "I need an immediate forensic audit of all sub-contractual transactions related to Vanguard Event Management over the last eight months."
Arthur paused, his eyebrows pulling together. "Vanguard? That's Logan's boutique agency, right? The one we used for the West Coast Digital Summit launch party?"
"The same," Abigail said, sitting down in the leather chair across from him, her posture perfectly erect. "I authorized two vendor payments to them totaling forty-five thousand dollars for venue staging and corporate catering coordination. I want to know where every cent went, down to the penny."
Arthur looked at her closely, reading the subtext behind her icy demeanor. "Did something happen?"
"I am severing all personal and professional ties with Mr. Vance," she replied without a hint of hesitation. "And before I submit my formal report to the board, I want to ensure that my personal relationship with him did not blind me to financial malfeasance within my department."
Arthur nodded grimly. He plugged the drive in and began tapping rapidly on his keyboard. "Give me twenty minutes."
While Arthur ran the preliminary ledger checks, Abigail returned to her office. Her desk was immaculate, save for a single crystal paperweight and her laptop. But her personal phone was blowing up. She had seventy-four unread text messages and sixteen missed calls, all from Logan and various unknown numbers she suspected belonged to his mother or his small circle of enabling friends.
She opened the first voicemails.
“Abigail, please, you’re ruining my life!” Logan’s voice was ragged, pitched with desperation. “The venue for the summer showcase is threatening to drop Vanguard because the deposit bounced! My mother is staying at a cheap motel on El Cajon Boulevard and she’s losing her mind! You can’t just cut me off like this! We were getting married in four months!”
She deleted the message without listening to the rest.
Then came a text from an unknown number:
“You rich little bitch. You think you can throw away my family like trash? I’m going to your bosses. I’m going to tell everyone how you stole Logan’s event ideas and used him to advance your career. You haven’t seen the last of Bernice Gable.”
Abigail screenshot the message, forwarded it to her attorney, Sarah Lin, and saved it in a folder labeled Harassment Evidence.
A soft knock at her office door interrupted her thoughts. It was Arthur, holding a printout of a detailed spreadsheet, his face unusually pale.
"Abigail... you need to see this," Arthur said, entering and locking the door behind him. "It’s worse than a simple conflict of interest."
"Show me."
Arthur laid the paper on her desk, pointing his index finger at a series of line-item transfers. "The forty-five thousand dollars Apex disbursed to Vanguard Event Management was supposed to be held in an escrow account for the convention center rent and sub-contracted lighting crews. Vanguard didn't pay the vendor."
"What do you mean they didn't pay?" Abigail frowned. "The venue was secured for next month."
"No, it wasn't," Arthur explained, his tone heavy with concern. "Logan submitted forged receipts to our accounting department. He took the forty-five thousand dollars from Apex and routed it through a shell entity called 'Oakhaven Holdings LLC.' Do you know who owns Oakhaven Holdings?"
Abigail's eyes narrowed into slits of ice. "Bernice Gable."
"Precisely," Arthur confirmed. "The mother. She registered the LLC in Nevada six months ago. The money was transferred out of Vanguard's business account the day after Apex released the funds. It was used to pay off a tax lien on a residential property in Oakhaven and cover overdue credit card debt."
Abigail felt a cold wave of clarity wash over her. It was never just about a toxic mother-in-law wanting a free room in a luxury penthouse. It was a pre-meditated, structured financial scheme. Logan had used his position as her partner to secure corporate contracts from her company, siphon the funds to his mother to pay off her debts, and planned to lock Abigail into a legal marriage where she would be financially liable for his corporate fraud.
"He embezzled from Apex," Abigail stated, her voice dangerously quiet.
"He used corporate fraud to cover his family's liabilities," Arthur corrected softly. "And because you signed off on the vendor approval form as senior editorial director, if this hits an external audit before we report it, the board could accuse you of being a co-conspirator."
Abigail stood up slowly, smoothing down the front of her jacket. The lingering pain of emotional betrayal was instantantly obliterated by the instinct for self-preservation and lethal retaliation.
"Print the complete transaction chain," Abigail commanded. "Including the IP addresses of the electronic signatures on the forged invoices."
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"What are you going to do?" Arthur asked.
"I’m going to the Managing Partner’s office," Abigail said, her eyes flashing with dangerous determination. "And then I’m filing a criminal complaint with the District Attorney's office. Logan Vance wanted to see how an arrogant woman acts? I’m about to give him a masterclass."
