Chapter 4 - Stripped to the BoneThe screen shifted from the gruesome video of the assault to a complex, color-coded forensic accounting ledger.
"For six months," I explained to the room, "Julian Sterling and his mother Beatrice have been running a systematic embezzlement scheme through three shell vendors: B&J Consulting, Midwest Freight LLC, and Apex Supplies. Every one of these companies leads directly to an offshore bank account in the Cook Islands registered under Beatrice Sterling’s maiden name."
I pointed a finger at the screen.
"They stolen three point nine million dollars from the company’s payroll reserve, forged four separate property deeds including my father’s personal residence, and as of 9:02 a.m. today, Julian presented a forged Power of Attorney to execute an illegal transfer of twenty million dollars."
The IRS Special Agent stepped forward, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt.
"Julian Sterling," the agent read flatly. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, corporate embezzlement, forgery, grand larceny, and felony aggravated assault."
"No! No!" Julian screamed, struggling against Detective Miller as the cuffs snapped shut over his wrists with two sharp clicks. "Nora, please! I love you! I was stressed! My mother pushed me to do it! It was all her idea!"
"You cowardly little bastard!" Beatrice shrieked, leaping out of her chair, her manicured fingers clawing at Julian’s face. "I did this for you! You were useless without me!"
"Beatrice Sterling," the second officer interjected, seizing her arms and pulling her back, snapping another pair of steel handcuffs around her wrists. "You are under arrest as a primary co-conspirator to felony wire fraud, grand theft, and accomplice to domestic abuse."
"You can't arrest me!" Beatrice wailed, her silk blouse tearing as she fought the officers. "I'm a senior citizen! I have rights! This house belongs to me!"
"Actually, Beatrice," I said, stepping right in front of her, looking down into her terrified, unravelling eyes. "The court granted an emergency freeze on all your assets fifteen minutes ago. The mansion, your cars, your clothes, your jewelry, and every bank account bearing your name have been seized by the receiver. You don't even own the shoes on your feet."
Beatrice let out a high-pitched, pathetic sob as the officers began dragging her and Julian toward the exit doors.
As Julian was pulled past me, he dropped to his knees on the carpet, tears smearing the dirt on his face. "Nora! Please! Don't do this to me! Give me one more chance! We can talk about this!"
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I looked down at him without a single drop of fear, hesitation, or regret.
"You told me last night that I was useless, Julian," I whispered, leaning down so only he could hear. "You forgot that my father didn't raise a victim. He raised an accountant."
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