Chapter 8 - The Audit of Souls
The fallout of the grand gala unraveled across national headlines within twenty-four hours.
Financial news networks and tabloid blogs feasted on the sensational downfall of Bennett Technologies and its disgraced CEO. Investigative reports detailed how Ethan Bennett had orchestrated an elaborate, cold-blooded murder plot against his wealthy, low-profile wife to loot a one million dollar insurance policy and bail out his failing company, only to be publicly exposed by his surviving spouse at a high-society charity gala.
I spent the following week sequestered in the penthouse suite of Whitmore Tower, conducting a comprehensive audit of all corporate subsidiaries and personal assets.
Every single account tied to Ethan had been legally seized, liquidated, or redirected. His personal bank accounts were frozen under federal asset-forfeiture laws linked to the attempted insurance fraud. The luxury Bellevue estate, purchased largely with Whitmore Group venture capital disguised as independent loans, was foreclosed upon and put up for immediate auction.
On a crisp Tuesday afternoon, I sat behind my massive mahogany desk reviewing the final liquidation documents when my executive assistant buzzed through the intercom.
"Madam Chairwoman, you have a visitor in the private holding lounge. A federal investigator requesting a brief debrief regarding the Ethan Bennett case."
"Send him in, Daniel," I instructed.
A moment later, the heavy oak door opened, and a distinguished federal prosecutor named Agent Vance stepped into the office, accompanied by none other than Mrs. Ruth.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bennett," Agent Vance greeted me respectfully, shaking my hand. "I wanted to personally deliver the preliminary indictment documents. The grand jury has returned a formal indictment on all counts against Ethan Bennett and Megan Hayes. Given the overwhelming digital evidence and audio confessions, their defense counsel has already signaled that they may seek a plea deal, though given the severity of premeditated attempted murder, federal prosecutors are pushing for maximum consecutive sentences."
"Thank you, Agent Vance," I replied, scanning the official documents and signing my name with a fountain pen. "Ensure that no leniency is extended under any circumstances. People who calculate murder deserve the full weight of the law."
"Understood," Agent Vance said, nodding before taking his leave.
Once the door clicked shut, Mrs. Ruth stepped forward, leaning on her polished wooden cane, a warm, knowing smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.
"You handled yourself with remarkable poise throughout all of this, Claire," Mrs. Ruth said, taking a seat across from my desk.
"I couldn't have survived that night on the mountain without you, Mrs. Ruth," I said genuinely, pouring two cups of freshly brewed green tea and sliding one across the table to her. "You saved my life, and you guided me through the storm. Who are you, really? You're clearly not just a retired woman wandering in the rain."
May you like
Mrs. Ruth chuckled softly, sipping her tea. "Let's just say I spent thirty years inside federal intelligence tracking corporate corruption and white-collar predators like your husband. I noticed irregularities in Bennett Technologies' funding streams months ago, and when I saw Ethan sniffing around life insurance underwriters in downtown Seattle, I knew a tragedy was being engineered. I was simply positioned where I needed to be when providence intersected our paths."
I smiled, raising my teacup in a silent toast. "Then providence has excellent timing."
