Kenneth was sitting at a small table near the hospital coffee stand, looking incredibly serious. Even from a distance, his posture concerned me because he was not a dramatic man by nature. At fifty-eight, he had built a stellar reputation as one of the most respected corporate and family attorneys in the city. People hired Kenneth when things became incredibly complicated.
When he noticed me approaching, he stood up quickly. “Kirsten, thank you for coming down so fast.”
“Kenneth, your text sounded very urgent,” I said as we shook hands.
He glanced around the crowded lobby before speaking. “Can we find somewhere more private to sit?”
That request is never a good sign from a lawyer. We found a quiet corner table away from the main foot traffic, where the smell of fresh coffee mixed with the faint scent of medical disinfectant. The familiar rhythm of my professional life surrounded us, complete with phones ringing and nurses calling out names.
Kenneth opened a thick manila folder on the table. “I found something during the post-divorce audit.”
My stomach tightened immediately. “What kind of something, Kenneth?”
“The kind of information that changes everything about your settlement,” he said, sliding several documents across the table. “Take a look at these financial disclosures.”
I scanned the first page, then the second, and my eyebrows lifted in shock by the third page. “These numbers aren’t right at all.”
“No, they aren’t,” Kenneth replied grimly. “Keep reading those bank records.”
I stared at the investment statements and property disclosures, which were filled with columns of numbers. They told a completely different story than the one Connor had presented under oath during our divorce proceedings.
“How much did he hide?” I finally asked, looking up.
Kenneth sighed deeply. “Based on what my forensic accountants have found so far, it is close to seven hundred thousand dollars.”
I blinked in sheer disbelief. “Seven hundred thousand?”
“Yes, close to it,” Kenneth confirmed.
It was not seven thousand or seventy thousand, but seven hundred thousand dollars in marital assets that Connor had hidden away. My first reaction was actually disbelief rather than anger. Connor was not a criminal mastermind by any stretch. He routinely forgot his computer passwords, lost important receipts, and once locked himself out of our own house three times in a single month. Yet, he had somehow managed to execute this massive deception.
“How did he even pull this off?” I asked.
Kenneth smiled slightly. “That is the funny part of the investigation.”
“I don’t see what is funny about this,” I murmured.
“Do you know how most financial investigations like this start?” Kenneth asked. “Someone gets incredibly greedy.”
“That sounds exactly like Connor,” I admitted.
Kenneth continued explaining the situation. “Connor applied for financing on a major commercial property six months ago because he wanted to invest in a new medical office building downtown.”
