Chapter 14 - The Stolen Funds
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Elodie told me how Graham had been desperately borrowing against everything they owned for years. How Genevieve had aggressively pressured Adrian to marry “up” into my wealth after Bianca failed to bring in enough money to sustain their lifestyle.
She explained how Bianca had been introduced to the family first as a consultant, then as a friend, and finally as a permanent presence, all because Genevieve firmly believed my immense pride would make me leave the marriage before I ever bothered to investigate the finances.
She told me how Adrian had once laughed over drinks and said, “Isla would rather bleed quietly than admit to anyone she chose the wrong man.”
That specific sentence stayed with me. Not because it was fundamentally true. But because it had been true for long enough to let them steal from me.
The next day, Marisol aggressively expanded the legal complaint against them.
The video footage fundamentally changed the trajectory of the case. It proved deliberate premeditation. It unequivocally proved intentional emotional abuse directly tied to a complex financial strategy. It firmly supported the legal argument that the public humiliation at Elodie’s wedding was not just a petty personal insult, but a calculated part of a coercive financial extortion plan.
Dorian Pike, the forensic accountant, uncovered even more damning evidence: payments from my company to Ravel Creative Strategy had systematically funded the lease on Bianca’s luxury car, Genevieve’s exorbitant private club dues, Graham’s massive loan interest payments, and even a significant portion of Elodie’s lavish wedding bill.
When Marisol told me that last detail, I had to physically sit down in her office.
“My money literally paid for the event where they publicly humiliated me?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” Marisol said grimly.
I laughed then. A loud, sharp sound. Not because it was funny. Because the only alternative was violently breaking something expensive, and I legally owned everything in my office.
Bianca officially received the legal hold notice from our firm that very afternoon. Within two hours, she panicked and called me directly from a blocked number.
“I think we should talk, Isla. Woman to woman,” Bianca said, her voice dripping with false empathy.
I stared at my phone, absolutely amazed by the sheer audacity. “Do you mean thief to victim?”
She exhaled sharply, dropping the act. “Adrian explicitly told me your marriage was completely over months ago.”
“Did he bother to tell my bank accounts that, too?”
“I provided legitimate, billable consulting services for your firm,” she argued defensively.
“Then you’ll truly enjoy explaining the exact nature of the duplicate invoices to a federal judge,” I replied.
Her voice changed, panic bleeding through. “I was not the mastermind behind this, Isla.”
May you like
“No,” I agreed coldly. “You were just the invoice.”
I hung up on her.
