My parents forged my signature to steal from your father private equity firm. They used your family money to pay for this engagement party. Terrence chuckled softly. He leaned against the edge of the massive desk, crossing his ankles. I know exactly what that document is, Caroline. I know the origination date.
I know the exact interest rate. I even know the roing number of the offshore account where the funds were deposited. He tilted his glass toward me in a mocking toast because I am the one who personally approved the transfer. The air in the library suddenly felt thick and unbreathable. The pieces of the puzzle shifted, forming a picture far more sinister than simple parental greed.
Terrence was not a victim. He was a co-conspirator. You approved a fraudulent loan, I said, narrowing my eyes. You are the director of investment for Jefferson Global Holdings. You know the federal compliance regulations. You saw a forged signature on a lending document and you pushed it through underwriting anyway.
