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    The Billionaire's Son
     
     
    Nearly five weeks
ago, a representative from Jackson Vaughn’s corporate empire approached me with
a job offer. I had just finished successfully wrapping up a very high profile
case, even if my involvement as the lead forensic accountant was kept far from
the public eye. It was as I was basking in the glow of my professional success,
that I received the phone call. I was told that Jackson Vaughn had personally
requested me for this job.
    I would have to
sign pages of confidentiality agreements before I was given even a glimpse of
what was to be involved. Still, it wasn’t a very difficult decision to make. Over
the years, I had consulted with many clients who demanded complete discretion. At
the request of several of my clients, I had even gone undercover working side
by side with key suspects to root out fraud within their companies. I was sure
that I could handle whatever problems Jackson Vaughn suspected. Plus, the
hourly wage and completion bonus they offered was quite generous.
    Of course, I
played it cool, but accepted the offer on the spot. I left my office early that
day. The entire drive home, I kept trying to remember what I knew of Jackson
Vaughn, the billionaire mogul, who tended to keep out of the spotlight. I could
conjure up some blurry images in my mind of a handsome fatherly type figure. No
doubt the man had a brilliant mind. What popped into my mind more readily was
the image of the jet-setting playboy, Derek, who was Vaughn’s only son. Derek
tended to be in the news more often for his bad-boy behavior than for the
philanthropic endeavors that his father was known for. I didn’t know much about
Vaughn's business dealings, except that his empire was vast and successful.
    I spent the rest
of the evening learning all I could about Jackson Vaughn and his companies. The
internet was an amazing fount of knowledge; yet it only gave me a tiny peek
into the complexity of what I would be dealing with. I found very few articles
relating to Vaughn’s personal life. Apparently he was still married to his wife
of 30 plus years and the two maintained residences all over the world. The only
photographs I saw of the couple were taken at charitable fund-raising events. The
Vaughn’s reputation was impeccable.
    Stifling a yawn, I
glanced at the time on my laptop. It was after midnight. I needed to turn in so
that I could be at Vaughn’s downtown offices by 10:00 AM.
    In the morning, I
dressed with care. I selected my favorite suit, a feminine lavender color with
a fitted cut, but very professional and expensive.  I gathered my long
brunette curls and loosely clipped them behind my head. That way my hair was
pulled back for a more professional look, yet I still looked very feminine.  I
kept my makeup light and then added the finishing touch – a pair of
fashion eyeglasses. My vision was perfect, but I had long ago found the
eyeglasses added a touch of intelligence and sophistication to my look. I used
my secret weapon sparingly. When I wore the glasses, I felt I could face down
the most influential men and women in the world and come out on top. The confidence
boost was priceless.
    I checked the
mirror one last time before heading out and smiled. I looked impeccable. Only
the hint of my voluptuous womanly curves could be seen through the armor of my
power suit. My hair was absolutely appropriate for the meeting, yet looked
stunning. I was very aware of the impression that I always created walking
through a door. Men often did a double take and women often sniffed in quiet
disdain. I did not fit the mousy accountant mold that they always expected and
I enjoyed that tremendously. Usually it only took me about ten minutes to
grudgingly win over the respect that they weren’t planning on giving when they
first set eyes on me. My analytical brain could usually out compute anyone who
dared challenge me quite easily.
    While I was a
powerhouse in the boardroom, I was a disaster in the