Chapter 7 - The First Morning of the Rest of My Life
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of my new apartment, casting clean geometric patterns across the minimalist hardwood floor. I stood by the kitchen island, carefully measuring ground coffee into a stainless-steel French press, my movements slow and deliberate to protect my still-healing ribs. The lingering ache in my left arm was a fading echo of the night Ethan tried to erase me, but the silence in the apartment was entirely my own. There were no footsteps pacing the hallway, no sharp demands echoing from the living room, and no hidden cameras monitoring my every breath.
A sharp, crisp double-knock sounded at the entryway, followed immediately by the familiar, reassuring jingle of Liam’s car keys.
He stepped inside carrying a thick cardboard box marked with federal evidence seals, his silver colonel’s insignia catching the morning light as he shrugged out of his uniform jacket.
“Morning, Sarah,” Liam said, setting the box down on the counter with a soft thud. “How are the ribs holding up?”
“Better every day,” I replied, pouring two mugs of hot coffee and sliding one across the island toward him. “What’s in the box? I thought the DOJ took possession of all active case files yesterday afternoon.”
“They did,” Liam said, taking a sip of the dark roast before leaning against the counter. “This isn't from the federal investigation. This is the personal archive Ethan kept locked in his private office safe at Apex Tower—the documents he thought he had shredded last year when he first started shifting money offshore.”
I raised an eyebrow, walking over to inspect the top folder visible through the open cardboard flap.
“How did you get access to his private office safe?” I asked, a faint, ironic smile touching the corners of my mouth.
“When the federal marshals executed the seizure warrant yesterday, they found the safe combination written down on a sticky note tucked inside his desk calendar,” Liam chuckled softly. “Arrogance makes men incredibly sloppy. He honestly believed no one would ever breach his inner sanctum.”
I reached down, pulling out a heavy manila folder labeled with handwritten dates from three years ago—the exact period when Apex Development was supposedly on the brink of bankruptcy, and the precise moment Ethan first convinced me to step in and rebuild his financial ledgers.
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“Open it,” Liam said quietly, his eyes fixed on mine.
I flipped open the brass clasp and slid out the contents. Inside lay a series of preliminary financial drafts, handwritten notes, and bank statements bearing dates long before I ever touched his corporate books. As I scanned the columns of figures, the blood slowly drained from my face, revealing a conspiracy far darker and more calculated than simple embezzlement.
