She searched.
Then searched again.
Finally, she looked up.
“There’s a consulting agreement. But I can’t find the required quarterly reports.”
Dad’s expression hardened.
“Who approved these invoices?”
Rebecca checked the entries.
“Several people over time. Mostly through our vendor payment system.”
“Any direct approvals from your daughter?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“None that I can find.”
Dad turned toward me.
“Elena, we need to preserve these records and bring in an independent forensic accountant.”
I looked at the screen.
Nearly two million dollars.
I suddenly felt sick.
But while we were discovering that secret, Brandon was preparing to spend another fortune.
Using my money.
At 8:40 p.m., Brandon walked into The Sapphire Room with Savannah on his arm.
The Sapphire Room was an exclusive private club in downtown Chicago.
Its members included executives, professional athletes, and wealthy investors.
Rossi Design Group owned the club’s operating company through a separate subsidiary.
I’d purchased a controlling interest three years earlier as part of a hospitality investment.
The club also served as a place where our designers entertained important clients.
Brandon had visited dozens of times as my guest.
But the membership was corporate.
And that afternoon, I’d instructed management to remove him from our authorized guest list.
Brandon apparently didn’t believe that mattered.
He requested a private suite.
Ordered imported oysters.
Wagyu steak.
Two bottles of rare Burgundy.
Cocktails decorated with edible gold.
And a violinist.
Savannah wanted to “feel like royalty.”
Then he took her to the club’s members-only jewelry boutique.
She selected an elaborate sapphire necklace.
The price was $198,000.
Brandon smiled as the sales associate presented it inside a velvet case.
According to the club’s manager, Brandon barely glanced at the price.
He simply handed over the black corporate card he’d saved to his digital wallet.
“Put everything on this.”
With the necklace, private suite, premium service, wine, and other charges, the total came to $311,000.
Three minutes later, the waiter returned.
His expression was tense.
“Sir. I’m sorry. The card was declined.”
