Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
“This is not a simple review of a struggling startup, Clare,” he said, holding the glasses up to the light of the Cary Street window. “You are asking me to look at your husband’s personal liabilities.”
“I am,” I said. “I am putting my own consulting bonuses on the line to guarantee the first eighty thousand dollars, but the math is not behaving.”
“A gap of how much?”
“Ninety thousand dollars is entirely unaccounted for,” I said. It was the first time I had spoken the number aloud to anyone else, and the words felt heavy in the quiet room.
David put his glasses back on, adjusting them behind his ears. He reached for the blue folder containing the bank statements I had retrieved from our home office. I had kept the folder hidden in my briefcase since the previous evening, tucked behind my own corporate restructuring files.
“Let me run the transaction history through the system,” David said. “But if I do this, it goes on my billable ledger. I cannot do forensic tracking as a personal favor, Clare.”
“Open the file,” I said. “Bill me directly.”
