She also confessed that she had tried to leave several times, but Randall controlled the accounts, kept the important documents, and threatened to leave her penniless. Each time she returned, Austin learned that fear could be used as a form of authority over women.
That answer hurt more than the slap I had received hours before.
Then Joanne squeezed my hand with surprising strength. “Three months ago I overheard Randall and Austin talking about your wedding, and Austin said that with Valeria in the picture, Christopher would not cut them off even if he discovered irregularities.”
“And what did Randall say?” I asked, feeling a cold shiver down my spine.
“Randall replied that first you get married, and then you become family,” she murmured tearfully.
I felt nauseous right there in the quiet room. Maybe Austin had once felt something for me, but he had allowed our marriage to become a cynical financial transaction.
While my father assembled lawyers and auditors, Justin continued investigating the family records. He found inflated invoices, shell companies, and fraudulent loans used to cover massive losses, proving that Randall had been embezzling money for years.
At seven-thirty in the morning, I called my cousin Lorraine, a lawyer specializing in domestic violence. She accompanied me back to the Brickell apartment to collect my belongings and document any threats.
Upon entering, we found Randall, Aunt Dolores, and a slick lawyer waiting for us in the living room while Austin was still in the emergency room getting his hand treated.
Randall slammed his fist on the heavy dining table. “Our lawyer will file a complaint for injuries, so if you want to avoid a scandal, you will pay Austin’s medical expenses and sign a statement admitting that you caused everything!”
Lorraine calmly opened her leather folder. “There are medical reports for Giselle and Joanne, photographs, an emergency call, and a report that will be submitted to the Prosecutor’s Office today.”
She looked at Randall’s legal counsel and added, “If you want to file a complaint, go ahead because my client will also testify to everything that occurred last night.”
The lawyer stopped smiling and cleared his throat nervously.
“Let us not exaggerate here,” Randall said, softening his loud tone slightly. “We are family after all.”
“Not anymore,” I replied coldly.
I pulled out my phone and showed him an audit sheet on the screen. “Thirteen shell companies and more than twenty million dollars under review, so my father will report any confirmed fraud, and I will initiate no-fault divorce proceedings without negotiating your silence.”
Randall paled instantly as he looked at the numbers.
I went into the bedroom, packed my clothes into two large suitcases, and when I returned to the living room, the lawyer was on an urgent phone call with a panicked expression.
“There is another massive problem,” the lawyer murmured quietly to Randall.
We all looked at him as he lowered his phone.
“A bank just stopped one of Austin’s primary accounts due to unusual activity and requested additional documentation, and Randall’s name appears directly in connection with it,” the lawyer explained.
Justin called my cell phone at that very moment. “Giselle, come to your father’s main office right now because we found the link between those accounts and Austin’s companies, and there is something you need to see in person.”
I looked at Randall, who for the first time did not seem angry, but completely terrified.
I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the door with Lorraine.
Before noon we would know if the wedding had been just a financial trap or the final piece of something much bigger.
PART 3
At eight-twenty in the morning we arrived at my father’s corporate office in Tampa. Christopher was sitting at the end of a long conference table with three lawyers and two external auditors, looking as if he had aged ten years overnight.
Justin drew a map of interconnected companies on the white board. “Thirteen suppliers were connected to two accounting firms and several shell companies, where some money financed the Kensington family’s personal assets and some went to an investment firm managed by Austin and two partners.”
“So far, we can document more than twenty million dollars in irregular transactions,” Justin explained to the room. “Regarding Austin’s bank transactions, we cannot yet call them money laundering, but we have clear triangulations, loans without commercial justification, and money entering and leaving related accounts.”
My father lowered his head in deep regret. “My mistake was confusing long friendship with a complete lack of controls.”
At ten minutes to nine, Austin, Randall, and their lawyer arrived at the office. Austin’s hand was heavily immobilized in a cast, and he wore a hateful expression on his face.
“Why were we summoned here so early?” Austin demanded angrily.
One of our lawyers responded calmly. “To inform you that Giselle will initiate no-fault divorce proceedings and that Christopher St. James’s company is suspending all business relations with you while the financial irregularities are investigated.”
Austin let out a dry laugh. “Are you going to destroy us with an audit invented in a single night?”
My father held up a billing statement. “This company charged eleven million for transporting merchandise that never left the warehouse, its registered address is an abandoned house in the suburbs, and its legal representative is your uncle’s personal driver, so explain that to me, Randall.”
My father-in-law sat frozen and did not respond.
Austin turned towards me with disgust. “This is all just pathetic revenge because you regretted getting married to me!”
“No, Austin,” I met his gaze firmly. “What happened last night opened my eyes, and the documents did the rest.”
“I am going to report you for breaking my hand!” he shouted.
“Do it, because I will also testify that you hit me first and that I tried to stop a second violent attack,” I answered without flinching.
Randall hit the arm of his chair angrily. “Joanne is not going to confirm anything you say!”
The heavy wooden door of the conference room opened.
My mother-in-law was standing there.
She had left the hospital accompanied by Lorraine and a compassionate social worker, wearing a small bandage on her forehead and carrying a thick yellow envelope.
