Chapter 2 - The Audit of the Golden Boy
The drive away from the family home was the quietest twenty minutes of my entire seventeen years of life.
I sat in the back of a local city cab, the two trash bags crowded around my knees, my fingers clutching the old suitcase handle.
My attorney, Elena, was already waiting for me at the small diner near the edge of the Ellison University campus.
She sat in a vinyl booth, a laptop open next to a cold cup of black coffee, her expression intense and focused.
"Ava, the digital packet you broadcasted at sunrise has already triggered a federal response," Elena said as I sat down.
"The state police fraud unit has verified the biometric signatures on the loan documents Brandon submitted last winter."
"They've already dispatched a vehicle to the house to secure the physical hard drives from your father's office."
I took a slow breath, the smell of diner grease and fresh coffee finally clearing away the heavy weight of the dinner table.
"They thought I would sign the deferral form just to keep the peace, Elena," I said, my voice dropping a register.
"They truly believed that family meant I had to sacrifice my entire education so Brandon could keep his truck."
"The truck is the least of his problems now," Elena countered, turning the laptop screen toward my side of the booth.
The monitor displayed the internal ledgers of Mercer & Sons Holdings—the family construction firm Dad managed.
Brandon hadn't just used my social security number to buy insurance; he had used it as the primary guarantor for a commercial loan.
A two-million-dollar construction bond that had completely disappeared into a shell account registered in the Bahamas.
My name was legally tied to a massive corporate fraud scheme, and if I hadn't sent that archive at dawn, I would have walked straight into a prison sentence.
"He set you up as the fall girl, Ava," Elena whispered, her eyes filled with a hard, professional anger.
"If the company failed the autumn audit, the debt liability would have shifted entirely onto your credit signature."
"That's why your mother wanted you to defer from Ellison—they needed you available in the state to sign the bankruptcy filings."
A sudden notification vibrated against my phone, the screen displaying a frantic text message from my father.
"Your mother is having a panic attack, Ava. The police are in the study. You need to call the captain and tell them it was an oversight."
May you like
I deleted the message without a single word, sliding the phone back into my pocket as the diner lights buzzed above us.
The golden son had built a perfect guillotine for his sister, but he had spent months wrapping the rope around his own neck.
