Chapter 3 - The Ghost Account
Sarah stepped forward and laid four identical document packets on the bench, handing copies to Hayes with a stone-cold expression.
Julian stared at the cover sheet, and every remaining trace of color vanished from his skin until he looked like chalk.
"Six weeks ago," Sarah explained, her voice ringing clearly through the room, "an electronic power-of-attorney transfer was initiated through St. Charles Premier Bank."
"The document purported to bear the signature of Audrey Collins, granting Julian Collins full signature authority over the David Vance Miller Testamentary Trust."
Judge Vance flipped open the packet, her sharp eyebrows drawing together into a grim, dark line.
"The Miller Trust," the judge murmured. "Mrs. Collins, is this the non-marital asset established by your late father?"
"Yes, Your Honor," I spoke up, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the violent trembling in my knees.
"My father established that trust fourteen years ago, before I ever met Julian. It was funded with the proceeds from the sale of our family’s hardware distribution company."
"And what is the approximate balance of that trust, Mrs. Lindqvist?" Judge Vance inquired, her eyes scanning the financial exhibits.
"Twelve million, four hundred thousand dollars," Sarah stated without missing a single beat.
A collective, audible gasp swept through the small gallery behind us.
Melissa’s head snapped toward Julian so fast a lock of her styled blonde hair fell across her forehead.
She looked at him not with love, but with raw, calculating shock—because Julian had clearly never told her the actual number.
"Your Honor, this is entirely separate property!" Hayes shouted, scrambling to stand up again. "It has no bearing on the marital estate!"
"It has immense bearing, Mr. Hayes, if your client attempted to forge his wife’s name to liquidate it prior to the entry of a final decree!" Sarah countered fiercely.
"We subpoenaed the bank's security logs two days ago," Sarah continued, pulling out another color photograph.
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"Last Thursday at 2:15 PM, Melissa Grant walked into the private banking annex on Elm Street presenting this exact forged authorization."
Melissa let out a sharp, strangled squeak and buried her face in both hands, her shoulders heaving in sudden, frantic panic.
