Chapter 5 - The Three Vendors
Westbridge’s investigation gave me its first formal interview five days later.
Sarah beside me.
Outside counsel, two forensic accountants, and Amelia Grant across table.
Gabriel was not present.
Conflict.
They began with vendor names.
Lakeview Strategic Services.
“No.”
Northstar Field Logistics.
“No.”
Cobalt Site Analytics.
“I’ve seen Cobalt on project cost reports.”
“Did you know ownership?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize invoices?”
“Not knowingly.”
They showed me six approval documents.
Three bore electronic signatures resembling mine.
Two had scanned signatures.
One used typed certification under my name.
I examined.
“This one is wrong.”
“How?”
“My title.”
It said Senior Planning Manager on a date I had already become Associate Director.
Tiny.
The investigator nodded.
“Good.”
Another.
“This project code is wrong.”
“How?”
“Milwaukee site was 4417. This says 4471.”
Another.
“I would never approve site analytics through planning operating budget. That came from predevelopment.”
The investigators exchanged looks.
My knowledge became defense.
Then system logs.
Two approvals submitted from internal procurement account Colin controlled, not mine.
My name was listed as business sponsor, but no authentication tied directly to me.
Three others had metadata showing PDFs created on computer registered to MRO Consulting.
Mauricio’s company.
My signature had been copied from a prior conflict disclosure.
No evidence I created.
The most troubling document was a portal update made with my actual Westbridge credentials.
August 14.
2:17 a.m.
Vendor relationship acknowledgment.
It logged from my home IP.
My stomach dropped.
“Could Mauricio access your laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Password?”
“He knew old one. Company changed requirements. I don’t think new.”
“Did you leave laptop unlocked?”
“At home, sometimes.”
“MFA?”
“Phone.”
“Did he know phone passcode?”
“Yes.”
Sarah did not react.
I felt ashamed.
As though marital trust were compliance misconduct.
Investigator said:
“You are not first employee whose spouse knew phone passcode.”
Still.
“How many approvals from my login?”
“One confirmed. Two unsuccessful attempts.”
“Dates?”
They told.
One night I had fallen asleep after taking migraine medication.
Another I was showering before early flight.
I could not prove where I was inside my own condo.
But device forensics might.
Then money.
Westbridge had paid $1,842,600 gross to three vendors.
Legitimate/subcontracted value estimated:
$526,000 after deeper review, not $480k preliminary.
Taxes and pass-through costs around $185,000.
Potential net loss before recovery:
Approximately $1.13 million.
Of that, transfers flowed:
$462,000 to accounts controlled by Mauricio.
$318,000 to Teresa-related entities/accounts.
$194,000 to Colin Reed.
Remaining to subcontractors, cash withdrawals, and operational expenses.
That was not yet final criminal attribution.
But pattern.
I asked:
“Why would Colin do this?”
“Money.”
Obvious.
“How did he meet Mauricio?”
Records showed first lunch two months after Mauricio attended Westbridge charity golf event as my guest.
My marriage had opened door.
I felt sick.
Sarah said:
“His crime is not your hospitality.”
I looked at her.
“I brought him inside.”
“You brought your husband to a golf event. That is not conspiracy.”
The investigator continued.
Mauricio had cultivated Colin.
Gifts.
Sports tickets.
Then business.
Mauricio opened shell vendors with Teresa.
They subcontracted some real work so invoices would not look entirely fabricated.
Then inflated.
Duplicated.
Billed projects twice.
Used forged sponsor documents with my name to reduce conflict scrutiny.
The scheme was not brilliant.
It lasted because procurement controls were weak, projects were large, and real work hid fake margins.
Three years.
My promotion had nothing to do with fraud.
But Mauricio clearly resented it.
Why slap me that night?
Because celebration threatened him.
Because company role made me more likely to see budgets at higher level.
Because his insecurity was real.
May you like
And perhaps because he knew my promotion gave me visibility into exactly the numbers he had spent years hiding.
That possibility terrified him more than salary.
