Chapter 3 - THE ACCOUNT VICTOR THOUGHT I NEVER CHECKED
The transfer had failed.
Victor didn’t know that yet.
The bank’s fraud system rejected it because the receiving account was less than thirty days old.
That account had a name.
V&R DEVELOPMENT LLC.
Victor and Rita.
At least they had been honest about one thing.
Daniel obtained the incorporation documents by noon.
Victor owned fifty-one percent.
Rita owned forty-nine.
The company had been created six weeks earlier.
Its registered business purpose was “residential investment and property development.”
Its first listed asset?
My Brookline address.
I stared at the screen.
“They built a company around a house they didn’t own.”
Daniel nodded.
“People become remarkably optimistic when they believe the real owner won’t fight.”
Victor had said exactly that.
Sarah won’t fight me.
She never does.
Those words had apparently become his business plan.
I was discharged two days later under strict instructions to rest.
I did not return to Brookline.
Daniel arranged for me to stay in a furnished apartment owned by one of his retired clients.
My body hurt.
My emotions hurt worse.
But anger had one advantage.
It kept me awake.
That evening, Daniel’s forensic accountant, Priya Shah, called.
“I found the purpose of V&R Development.”
“Selling my house?”
“Eventually.”
“What comes first?”
“A loan.”
Victor had already applied for a $1.2 million bridge loan using the forged deed as proof he owned half the property.
He planned to use the money to rescue his failing consulting company.
I had not known the company was failing.
Apparently, I had not known my husband either.
“How bad?”
Priya hesitated.
“Victor has been hiding losses for eighteen months.”
“How much?”
“Just over two million dollars.”
My chest tightened.
His business had once been stable.
Not huge, but successful enough.
“Where did it go?”
“We’re tracing it.”
Then Priya became quiet.
“What?”
“I found another transfer.”
“From where?”
“Your joint investment account.”
I sat upright too quickly and pain shot through my side.
“How much?”
“Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars over eight months.”
“I never approved that.”
“I assumed not.”
The transactions had been broken into smaller amounts.
Always beneath the threshold that triggered my bank alerts.
Someone had even changed my notification settings.
Victor.
Or Rita.
Maybe both.
Priya continued.
“There’s something else.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
“The money didn’t go into Victor’s business.”
“Then where?”
She sent me an address.
A luxury condominium development in Boston’s Seaport District.
Unit 1704.
Purchased eight months earlier.
Owner of record:
RITA COLE.
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Victor had not been losing my money.
He had been building his new life with it.
