Chapter 5 - THE AUDIT THAT SHATTERED AN EMPIRE
While Gregory and Cynthia watched their professional lives disintegrate, Karla Mullins was desperately trying to rally her social circle in Pacific Heights. She spent the entire afternoon pacing the marble floors of her four-story mansion on Broadway, clutching her gold-plated telephone, calling every socialite, charity board director, and country club trustee she knew.
“Beatrice, darling! It’s Karla,” she purred into the phone, attempting to sound cheerful. “You won't believe the outrageous stunt that low-class market girl pulled last night. I am organizing an emergency meeting of the Historical Preservation Gala committee. We need to blacklist her and—”
“Karla, please do not call this number again,” Beatrice cut in icily. “Word travels fast. Everyone knows what happened at L’Hiver. Everyone saw how you treated Joshua, and everyone knows Lacey Mercer owns the Mercer Family Foundation, which provides seventy percent of our charity’s annual funding. If I am seen associating with you, our foundation loses its endowment. Consider your membership on the board revoked.”
Click.
Karla stared at the receiver in horror. Before she could dial another number, the front doorbell rang with an aggressive, rhythmic pounding that rattled the stained-glass foyer.
Karla smoothed her skirt, assumed her most intimidating matriarchal glare, and flung the door open. “How dare you bang on my door like a common—”
She stopped dead. Standing on her front porch were three men in tailored charcoal suits carrying heavy leather briefcases, flanked by two uniformed officers from the San Francisco Sheriff’s Department.
The man in the center stepped forward, presenting a gold-embossed identification badge. “Mrs. Karla Mullins? My name is Marcus Sterling. I am senior managing counsel for the Mercer Family Estate and personal representative for Joshua Mullins.”
“Joshua?” Karla gasped. “Joshua sent you? That old fool has lost his mind! This is my house!”
“Actually, Mrs. Mullins, that is where you are catastrophically mistaken,” Marcus Sterling said, offering a tight, predatory smile. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a certified property ledger that was nearly three inches thick.
“This residence on Broadway was purchased in 1988 by Joshua Mullins using a private corporate loan guaranteed by Arthur Mercer’s investment company,” Sterling explained, his voice loud enough for the neighboring gardeners and passing dog walkers to hear clearly. “For thirty-five years, Joshua made the payments from his personal accounts. However, six years ago, when Joshua became ill, you forged his power of attorney to transfer the title into a private revocable trust under your own name and Gregory’s name, without Joshua’s consent or knowledge.”
Karla’s knees buckled. She reached out to support herself against the heavy oak doorframe. “That… that was for estate planning! Gregory is a physician! He knows how to manage assets!”
“It was grand larceny and elder financial abuse,” Sterling countered sharply. “We filed an emergency petition in San Francisco Probate Court at eight o’clock this morning. Judge Alvarez granted our motion for an immediate freeze on all joint accounts, voided the fraudulent deed transfer, and restored sole ownership of this property to Joshua Mullins. Furthermore, Mr. Mullins has executed an irrevocable power of attorney granting full administrative authority over all his assets to his son, Keaton Mullins, and his daughter-in-law, Lacey Mercer-Mullins.”
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Marcus Sterling pulled an official red-stamped court document from his folder and handed it directly to Karla.
“Mrs. Mullins, you have forty-eight hours to vacate these premises. You may take your personal clothing and items proven to have been acquired prior to your marriage. All vehicles registered under corporate leases, all fine art acquired through Joshua’s estate, and all family jewelry must remain on the premises. If you attempt to liquidate or remove any secured assets, the officers behind me have an active warrant for your arrest.”
