Chapter 6 - The Financial Autopsy
By noon, the news of my miraculous survival and Richard’s arrest had exploded across global media networks.
The Hayes Global stock price didn't crash; it skyrocketed eighteen percent in afternoon trading as Wall Street rallied behind the news that the company was secure, the leadership intact, and the fraudulent liabilities eliminated.
Inside my private corner office, the late afternoon sun cast long golden rays across my desk.
Marcus stood by the window, while Arthur Pendelton sat across from me, reviewing the forensic audit papers we had seized from Richard’s private server following his arrest.
"It’s worse than we thought, Amelia," Arthur said, adjusting his reading glasses. "Richard hadn't just leveraged his own firm. He had bribed our former Chief Financial Officer, Harold Finch, to falsify our Q2 internal supply chain audits. They were planning to siphon two hundred million dollars out of our defense development fund the moment Richard took the chair."
"Where is Finch now?" I asked, sipping a glass of iced water.
"Finch was picked up at SFO two hours ago trying to board a private flight to Dubai," Marcus chimed in. "He’s already cooperating with the US Attorney’s office to secure a plea deal. He’s turning over every private communication, bank record, and shell account contract Richard ever signed."
I leaned back in my leather chair, placing my hands softly over my stomach. The baby kicked—a firm, lively movement that made me smile.
"He tried to kill both of us for numbers on a spreadsheet," I murmured softly.
"He tried to kill you because he thought wealth was something you could steal," Arthur said gently. "He never understood that your father built this empire on substance, not smoke and mirrors like the world Richard lived in."
My phone chimed on the desk. It was an encrypted text message from Detective Rodriguez at the San Francisco City Jail.
Rodriguez: Sterling’s legal team just applied for emergency bail. The judge set the hearing for tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM. His father-in-law's old contacts are trying to raise the twenty-million-dollar bond.
I stared at the message. Twenty million dollars was a lot of money, but Julian Mercer’s syndicate held deep pockets in international shadow banking. If Richard managed to post bail, he would be out on the street before the week ended—desperate, dangerous, and with nothing left to lose.
"He can't get bail, Arthur," I said, looking up.
"On an attempted murder charge without a prior record, a sympathetic judge might grant a high bond," Arthur warned. "Especially if his defense team claims the video and audio evidence was obtained through illegal wiretaps."
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"The wiretaps weren't illegal," Marcus pointed out. "Amelia signed a corporate security authorization consent form covering all Hayes Global assets and executive communications prior to the helicopter flight."
"Still," I said, standing up and reaching for my coat. "I'm not leaving this to chance. We're going to make sure Richard stays exactly where he belongs."
