Instead, much of the money raked in through Australia's largest white collar crime fraud racket was allegedly splashed on luxury cars, jewellery and over-indulgence for Sydney professionals.

All the while young Sydney woman Brittney Hart, one of dozens of straw directors caught up in the lucrative tax fraud, was struggling to get those at the centre of the syndicate to uphold their promise of monthly $500 payments.

Payments like these were handed to an ex-Nomads bikie member, pole dancer, jobless tradies and the cash strapped, who were recruited to act as fronts for companies intrinsic in siphoning funds off for the syndicate.

The scheme was orchestrated by a close-knit group of high-flyers, including Adam Cranston, the son of Australian Taxation Office Deputy Commissioner Michael Cranston.

It involved a legitimate company, Plutus Payroll, accepting contracts from legitimate clients to process payroll on their behalf.

The syndicate allegedly employed "straw directors", who included unwitting drug addicts and welfare recipients, who appeared on paper to run the second tier companies but were actually just fronts for the scam.

The tier 2 companies made payroll payments but withheld small amounts of PAYG each time, gradually siphoning it off to the syndicate.

Some arrangements with straw directors went pear-shaped when some - desperate to get out or succumbing to temptation - dipped into the bank accounts linked to their companies.

Ms Hart was 18-years-old and pregnant with her first child when a friend approached her with a money-making opportunity.

That friend put her in touch with a man named "Igor", who asked if she would be willing to set up a company in her name. She would earn $500 a month for her troubles, he promised her during a meeting in 2015.

"He just said he left his wife and she was trying to take all of his money," she told Fairfax Media on Friday. "He said if I helped him, signed up as a director, he wanted to put the money through the business.

"I had just turned 18. He said he would pay me $500 a month. I was young and stupid."

Ms Hart agreed, registering as the director of Prime Consultants Pty Ltd and opening four bank accounts.

At one point she checked the account balances and saw $500,000 in one account and $200,000 in the other.

It wasn't long before Ms Hart started getting calls from the Australian Security and Investments Commission.

Letters from the corporate regulator followed and alerted her to the trouble the company was in.

"I wanted to get out of it and I wanted nothing to do with it," she said.

She contacted a man named "Daniel or James", her point of contact and "middle man", who said he would get her out of the company completely.

But nothing happened.

"I honestly had no idea who these people were and I was worried," she said. "I was scared. I had kids, I was thinking of my family's safety. They knew where I lived as well."

Ms Hart's phone calls often went unanswered. At one point she made an anonymous call to Crime Stoppers, trying to gauge what might happen if she told the police.

But she worried she would be held responsible for whatever activity she had found herself in.

Desperate to get out, she told the middleman she would start taking money out of the accounts if they didn't help her out of the company.

After her warnings fell on deaf ears she went on a $20,000 shopping spree.

"It is a big temptation for an 18-year-old with the money just sitting there," she said.

The splurge achieved its objective and forced the syndicate members to act on their word. Ms Hart shut down the bank accounts in her name and transferred the money back.

The problems continued when she was dragged before court because the company was being wound up.

Ms Hart said she was promised a barrister to represent her and met with Dev Menon about this. Police allege Mr Menon, a successful tax lawyer, was an "active participant" in the fraud syndicate and advised members how it should be managed.

Earlier this year, Ms Hart's civil case was finalised, putting to bed her long-running financial saga.

Now a mother-of-two, Ms Hart, who deeply regrets ever agreeing to be a straw director, worries about her ability to obtain loans in the future.

"I was just a guinea pig to them," she said.