Chapter 7 - The Audit at Hayes Financial
The next morning at eight o’clock,
the sun broke through the gray clouds over Wall Street,
casting long shadows across the granite facade of Hayes & Montgomery Investment Management.
David walked through the glass revolving doors,
wearing a rumpled shirt he had purchased from a twenty-four-hour convenience store,
his eyes bloodshot from spending the entire night sitting in the lobby of a bus station.
He rode the elevator up to the thirty-fourth floor,
hoping to reach his private office before anyone in the firm noticed his appearance.
He needed to access his corporate computer,
transfer his lingering commissions to an unlinked personal account,
and figure out a way to salvage his career.
However,
as the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime,
he froze.
Two armed security officers were standing outside his corner office door,
holding large cardboard boxes filled with his personal framed diplomas,
his desk ornaments,
and his golf trophies.
Inside his office,
sitting behind his executive oak desk,
was not his secretary,
but Eleanor’s senior corporate attorney,
Marcus Vance,
accompanied by two forensic accountants in grey suits.
Beside them stood Richard Montgomery,
the senior managing partner of the firm and David’s direct superior.
“David,”
Richard said,
his voice cold,
deep,
and completely devoid of the warmth he usually showed toward his top producers.
“I see you decided to show up today.”
David took a cautious step into the room,
his hands trembling as he smoothed down his collar.
“Richard,
what is the meaning of this?”
David asked,
trying to sound indignant.
“Why are these people in my private workspace?”
“Why are my things in boxes?”
Richard folded his arms across his broad chest,
staring at David as if he were a piece of garbage stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“This is no longer your private workspace,
David,”
Richard replied smoothly.
“As of seven-thirty this morning,
your employment with Hayes & Montgomery has been terminated for cause.”
“Terminated?”
David gasped,
stumbling back a step.
“You can’t terminate me!”
“I brought in twelve million dollars in client portfolios last quarter!”
“Those portfolios belonged to Eleanor’s family estate,
David,”
Marcus Vance interjected quietly,
standing up from the desk and pulling a stack of legal documents from his leather briefcase.
“Portfolios that you managed under a strict fiduciary duty,
which you violated repeatedly over the past eighteen months.”
Marcus placed a thick binder onto the oak table,
tapping his finger against the front cover.
“We presented Richard with the full forensic audit this morning,”
Marcus continued,
his voice sharp and precise.
“It turns out that you have been siphoning management fees into a offshore shell company registered in Nevada,
using your wife’s digital signature without her knowledge or authorization.”
David’s heart stopped beating.
The room seemed to spin in slow motion around him.
“That...
that was an administrative oversight!”
David stammered,
his face turning bright red.
“I was restructuring the capital accounts for tax optimization!”
“You were paying for a SoHo penthouse,
a luxury convertible,
and two dozen wire transfers to Chloe Dupont’s private checking account,”
Richard snapped,
stepping closer to David.
“You committed corporate embezzlement inside my firm,
David.”
“You used our reputation,
our credentials,
and our corporate guarantees to facilitate your personal adultery and financial theft.”
“If Eleanor hadn’t agreed to hold off on filing formal criminal charges with the District Attorney in exchange for your immediate resignation and total forfeiture of all accrued bonuses,
you would be sitting in a holding cell at Rikers Island right now.”
David looked at Richard,
then looked at Marcus Vance,
realizing that every escape hatch he had built over the past five years had been systematically welded shut.
“Eleanor...
did Eleanor arrange this?”
David asked,
his voice barely a whisper.
“Mrs. Hayes is a remarkably thorough woman,”
Marcus Vance smiled coldly,
snapping his briefcase shut.
“She instructed us to leave you with exactly what you brought into the marriage.”
“Which,
according to the original prenuptial agreement signed six years ago,”
Marcus added,
handing him an envelope,
“is zero dollars and forty-two cents.”
“Now,
hand over your corporate keycard,
your building pass,
and your company phone.”
David stood paralyzed as one of the security guards stepped forward,
reached into David’s breast pocket,
and pulled out his corporate ID badge.
“Escort Mr. Hayes off the premises immediately,”
Richard ordered,
turning his back on David.
May you like
“And if he steps onto any floor of this building again,
call the police.”
