Chapter 3 - Arturo’s company
AV Strategic Services had existed for nine years.
I knew that.
It was Arturo’s personal consulting LLC.
At first, legitimate.
After he reduced his operational role at VGD, he used AV Strategic for occasional outside consulting and speaking.
VGD had paid it before.
Proper contracts.
Invoices.
Board disclosures.
Nothing inherently suspicious.
The $187,500 advance was different.
I had never seen it.
I opened our internal ledger.
There.
Not labeled:
Loan to Arturo.
Of course not.
“Predevelopment reserve – Oak Terrace.”
Oak Terrace was a failed boutique-hotel concept we had abandoned ten months earlier.
The general-ledger entry had been reclassified twice.
That was why the auditors found it.
I called our general counsel, Rebecca Sloan.
Different Rebecca from the countless Rebeccas apparently produced by American law firms.
Fifty-one.
Calm.
Terrifying when calm.
“Do not accuse anyone yet,” she said.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I looked toward the staircase.
Yesterday I had shoved my father into cake.
Fair.
“Today I know.”
“Good.”
I sent her the PDF.
She asked:
“Does this resemble your signature?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever authorized Arturo to sign for you?”
“No.”
“Use a signature stamp?”
“No.”
“Shared digital signing account?”
“Years ago, administrative staff could route documents. Not execute.”
“Any scanned signature images in company files?”
“Yes.”
Too many.
Employment letters.
Banking forms.
Old PDF consents.
Anybody with access to our corporate archive could copy one visually.
That did not prove Arturo personally forged it.
Maybe an employee had inserted it at his instruction.
Maybe a clerical error.
Maybe I had forgotten?
No.
I had not.
Rebecca said:
“We authenticate before adjectives.”
Another useful sentence.
I wrote it down.
At 9:18 my personal phone began ringing.
Arturo.
I watched it.
Did not answer.
Then Lucía.
Then Arturo.
Then Sofia.
Noah appeared on the stairs.
Hair wet from a morning shower.
“Is Grandpa calling?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to answer?”
“Later.”
He sat at the island.
“Am I still having a birthday?”
That broke me.
“Your birthday already happened.”
“You know what I mean.”
He wanted a redo.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Whenever you want.”
“Can Sofia come?”
I stared.
Children are inconvenient to revenge narratives.
“Do you want her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you don’t have to decide now.”
He nodded.
Then:
May you like
“Can I have cereal?”
The world continued.
