Chapter 2 - The Art of the Performance
Vivian arrived at noon. She was a woman who smelled like expensive perfume and old money, her eyes always scanning the room for things she could criticize. She walked into my apartment as if she were inspecting a property she intended to gut.
"It’s cramped, isn't it?" she remarked, tapping her heel against my hardwood floor. "So much wasted equity, sitting here in a shoebox while the family business requires liquidity."
"I’m sure Daniel has told you how much I cherish this space, Vivian," I said, offering her a glass of wine.
My ribs pulsed, but I kept my posture rigid. I was recording this. Every word.
"Daniel tells me you’re being... difficult," she said, her tone sharp. She sat at the table, her gaze lingering on my face. She was looking for the bruise, but the foundation held. "He’s a man who needs a partner who supports his vision, not one who clings to archaic notions of independence."
"I understand," I said, placing the roast in the center of the table. "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the family business."
Vivian’s eyes brightened, a predator catching the scent of blood. "Oh? And?"
"Daniel has mentioned needing to move funds around for the new project," I said, leaning in. "I’ve been looking into the shell corporation he mentioned. It seems like a brilliant way to shield assets from the upcoming market fluctuation."
I was baiting her. I knew the shell company wasn't for market fluctuations; it was a way for Daniel to siphon off company funds to cover his own gambling debts and his mother’s lavish lifestyle. Vivian didn't know I knew that. She thought I was finally "getting on board."
"It is," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s vital. If you’d just sign the transfer papers, we could have this all resolved by the end of the month. Your apartment would be the seed capital."
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"I’ll consider it," I said, smiling that same hollow, terrifying smile.
She drank her wine, unaware that the conversation was being uploaded to an encrypted server. I watched her talk, realizing that these people weren't just cruel; they were arrogant. They truly believed that because they had money, they were untouchable. They had no idea that a forensic accountant doesn't need to be strong—she just needs to be thorough.
