Chapter 8 - The Paper Trail
The legal proceedings moved with the relentless speed of a landslide.
While Leo grew stronger in the hospital,
I spent my mornings meeting with prosecutors and my afternoons reviewing the evidence.
The scale of the Highland Ridge fraud was staggering,
reaching far beyond a single vineyard.
They had been a hub for a regional network of money laundering,
using the prestige of their brand to hide the movements of millions.
I sat in a high-backed chair in the Attorney General’s office,
surrounded by boxes of files that I had helped compile.
"It’s beautiful work,
Laura,"
the Lead Prosecutor said,
sliding a summary document toward me.
"The way you tracked the grape yields against the reported revenue..."
"They were reporting three times the harvest they actually had."
"The 'extra' money was coming from a series of construction firms in the city."
I nodded,
my eyes scanning the numbers I knew by heart.
"They used the vineyard as a 'clean' front,"
I explained.
"Regina would host these high-end charity galas,"
"and the 'donations' were actually laundered cash."
"Then she’d funnel it back out through fake maintenance vendors."
"Derrick was the one who managed the vendor accounts."
"He thought he was being clever by using names of people who had died years ago,"
"but he didn't realize I check the social security death index as a hobby."
The prosecutor laughed,
a dry,
appreciative sound.
"They never saw you coming."
"No,"
I said,
thinking about the crystal chandeliers and the bathroom door.
"They were too busy looking at themselves."
"We're going to seize the entire property,"
the prosecutor continued.
"The vineyard,
the mansion,
the offshore accounts."
"It’ll be liquidated to pay back the state and the defrauded partners."
"What about Kayla?"
I asked.
"She wasn't on the papers,
but she lived off the money."
"She’s being investigated for tax evasion,"
he replied.
"Her wedding was paid for by a shell company,"
"which means the IRS is going to want a very long talk with her about that dress."
I felt a strange sense of closure.
The wedding that Regina had guarded so fiercely had become the very thing that buried them.
The spotlight they had tried to protect me from stealing had become a searchlight,
exposing every dark corner of their lives.
I signed the final affidavit,
feeling the weight of the pen in my hand.
The "little accountant" had finished her audit.
And the Highlands were officially bankrupt,
May you like
not just in their bank accounts,
but in their souls.
