I decided to show up in person.
Surprise was a key element.
I walked into the lobby of the modern office building at 9:00 a.m.
The young receptionist looked up, startled.
“Good morning. Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Chen,” I said. “Tell him it’s Meredith.”
“Excuse me—Meredith who?”
I smiled slightly.
“Just tell him it’s Meredith Vance. And it’s urgent. He’ll understand.”
The receptionist, looking doubtful, made the call.
A few seconds later, her eyes went wide.
“Yes. Yes, Mr. Chen. Right away.”
She hung up.
“You can go straight up to the fifth floor. Mr. Chen will wait for you by the elevator.”
And so he was.
When the elevator doors opened, Mr. Chen was standing there, looking pale and nervous.
He was a meticulous man in his late forties.
“Mrs. Preston—I mean, Ms. Vance,” he stammered. “What are you doing here? Has something happened?”
“Something very serious has happened, Mr. Chen, and I need your help,” I said as I walked past him toward his office. “Close your door. Now.”
Inside his neat, orderly office, I sat across from him.
“I won’t waste time, Mr. Chen. I apologize for the unexpected visit. I need you to pull all of Mr. Russell Preston’s financial data for the last six months—all his expenses, all his fund requests, all the invoices he has approved. Right now.”
Mr. Chen’s face tightened.
He knew this was no ordinary visit.
“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”
He immediately turned to his computer.
His fingers flew across the keyboard.
“Is there any specific type of expense you’re looking for?”
“All of them,” I said. “Travel expenses, client entertainment, and especially any payments to new vendors.”
Mr. Chen began opening the files.
“Here it is, ma’am. Mr. Preston has had quite a few trips. The trip to Seattle three days ago—plane tickets, five-star hotel, client representation expenses.”
“One moment,” I said. “The trip to Seattle. I want to see the details.”
Mr. Chen opened the attachments.
Indeed—plane tickets, hotel invoices, all paid by the company.
I took out my cell phone.
I opened my text message history.
I showed the screen to Mr. Chen.
“Read this, please,” I said.
Mr. Chen read the text from a month ago.
“Honey, send me $2,000. I have an important trip to Seattle, and the company budget is tight. I think I’ll have to pay for it first.”
Then I showed him the proof of the $2,000 transfer from my personal account to Russell’s.
“I made the transfer,” I said coldly. “And this—the company also paid for. What is this, Mr. Chen?”
Mr. Chen swallowed hard.
“This is… this is double billing. This is embezzlement, Ms. Vance.”
“This is just the beginning,” I said. “Keep looking.
“New vendors. Large, irregular payments.”
Mr. Chen scrolled down the screen.
He stopped at a name.
“Here it is, ma’am. Sunshine Consulting LLC. Payments for ‘Design Consulting Services.’ The strange thing is this only started in the last six months.
“But the payments are very large. Every month, Mr. Preston requested two transfers, each between $25,000 and $40,000.”
He did some quick math.
“My goodness… the total is already $450,000.”
“Who is the owner of that company?” I asked. “Where are the work reports? Is there a contract?”
Mr. Chen looked confused.
“That’s the problem, ma’am. Mr. Preston always said it was a special vendor, that he managed the contract directly. The payments were always requested suddenly, and he asked me to make the transfer immediately after he signed the approval. He said it was for a secret project.”
“A secret project?” I scoffed.
I immediately called my lawyer, Mr. Vance.
“Counselor,” I said, “I need you to verify a company name: Sunshine Consulting LLC. I’m sending you the tax registration number now. I need the owner’s name immediately.”
While waiting for Mr. Vance’s call, I told Mr. Chen:
“Look at entertainment expenses. Client entertainment.”
Mr. Chen opened Russell’s corporate card data.
The charges had skyrocketed—luxury restaurants, designer boutiques, and a jewelry store.
“Here it is, ma’am,” Mr. Chen said, his voice quiet. “Purchase of a diamond necklace. $5,000.
“The description says: ‘Gift for Client X’s wife.’”
I laughed.
A bitter, ugly laugh.
I remembered that three months ago, Russell came home complaining about how hard it was to win over Client X.
I never received a diamond necklace.
My cell phone rang.
It was Mr. Vance.
“I found the data, Meredith,” he said. “Sunshine Consulting LLC was registered six months ago. The address is a P.O. box. It’s a shell company.
“And the owner—the sole director and owner—is a Ms. Kendra Davis.”
“Kendra,” I whispered.
“Correct, ma’am. Kendra Davis. The company’s bank account is also in her name.”
I hung up.
I looked at Mr. Chen.
“Mr. Chen, that $450,000 went to my husband’s mistress’s personal account.”
Mr. Chen was horrified.
His face flushed with anger.
He felt tricked.
“The audacity. He… he fooled me completely.”
“You’re not the only one, Mr. Chen,” I said. “Me too.
“Now, let’s do the math.
“$450,000 for Kendra. Double billing for trips—let’s estimate $60,000 over the last six months. Personal purchases on the corporate card. That $5,000 necklace.
“The total is over $515,000.
“That’s outright company-fund embezzlement.”
I stood up.
“Mr. Chen—print all of this. All the evidence. Proof of transfers. Fake invoices from Sunshine Consulting. Copies of the corporate card statements.
“And the company registration data in Kendra Davis’s name.
“I want a complete, thick dossier.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will prepare it immediately,” Mr. Chen said, his movements agile.
“One more thing,” I added. “Does Miss Kendra Davis work here?”
I had gotten her the job, but I wasn’t sure if she was at this office or my main one.
Mr. Chen nodded.
“Yes, ma’am. She’s in the marketing department. She joined six months ago. She was personally hired by Mr. Preston.”
It fit perfectly.
“Prepare termination letters for Mr. Russell Preston and Miss Kendra Davis,” I said. “Right now.
“The reason for termination will be disciplinary dismissal for company-fund embezzlement and severe violation of company ethics.
“No severance. No benefits.”
“Understood, Ms. Vance,” Mr. Chen said. “You will have them on your desk before lunchtime.”
An hour later, I left that office.
I did not return to the hotel.
I went straight to Mr. Vance’s office.
In my hands, I carried a thick dossier with all the evidence.
I handed it to him.
“Here it is,” I said. “The wrapping for the wedding gift is ready.”
Mr. Vance took the dossier and quickly skimmed through it.
His eyes widened.
“This… this is incredible, Meredith. This isn’t a civil case. This is a clear-cut criminal case—misappropriation, fraud. The penalties are severe.”
“I know,” I said. “I don’t just want a divorce, Mr. Vance. I want them prosecuted.”
“I will make the calls,” he said, his voice grim. “We will have everything in place.”
“Good,” I said. “Now, we just have to wait for the mouse to come home.”
That night, I sent a brief message to the house’s new owner, Mr. Harrison.
“Mr. Harrison, good evening. For your information, an unwanted guest is likely to show up at the house tomorrow. He does not know the house has been sold. Please instruct your new security staff not to let him in. He no longer has any rights.”
Mr. Harrison replied quickly:
“I’ll take care of it, Ms. Vance. Don’t you worry.”
I put down my cell phone.
I had sold the house, secured the $15 million, blocked the credit cards, emptied the joint account, and compiled evidence of a crime worth over half a million dollars.
I also had a $10 million life insurance policy as proof of intent.
The gift was wrapped.
Now I just had to wait for Russell and Kendra to come and pick it up.
Saturday noon, the weather in Los Angeles was scorching.
A taxi—a dirty yellow sedan—pulled up right in front of the imposing gates on Acacia Lane.