Chapter 2 - The Hidden Ledger
"What are you talking about, Grace?" I asked, my grip tightening on the phone.
"The joint business accounts," she explained, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if someone might be listening. "I hired a forensic accountant, Julian Cross, to do a final sweep for the divorce settlement. He found something buried deep in the metadata."
"Tell me."
"Brandon wasn't just living off your wealth, Olivia. He was using your executive access credentials at Sterling Point to funnel client funds into a shell company."
The room seemed to spin. My executive access. Sterling Point Capital was one of the most prestigious asset management firms in the country. If client funds were missing, and my credentials were tied to the transfers, I wouldn't just lose my job. I would go to federal prison.
"How much, Grace?" I asked, my voice trembling for the first time.
"Twelve million dollars."
Twelve. Million. Dollars.
"He funneled the money into an offshore account in the Caymans," Grace continued. "And guess whose name is on the registration of that offshore holding company?"
"Margaret." The realization hit me like a physical blow.
"Exactly. They've been bleeding your firm dry for two years. But the digital tokens, the security keys required to authorize those transfers? They are localized on one device."
"My work laptop," I breathed, staring at the silver machine on my desk.
"Yes. Brandon needed to wipe that laptop. If he destroyed the hard drive, the digital trail would be broken. Sterling Point would eventually notice the missing funds, but they wouldn't be able to trace it to him. They would only see your credentials."
That was why he showed up at 6 AM. That was why he lied to the locksmith about a psychiatric emergency. It had nothing to do with the Cartier necklace. That was just the excuse he planned to use to explain his rage. He needed to get into my apartment, fake a struggle, and destroy the laptop.
"Julian is coming to your apartment right now," Grace said firmly. "Do not let that laptop out of your sight. He needs to clone the hard drive and extract the logs before Brandon makes bail."
"He's already in police custody for the break-in," I said, trying to steady my breathing.
"He's a Hawthorne, Olivia. His family has judges in their pockets. He'll be out on bail within the hour."
She was right. Less than forty-five minutes later, my intercom buzzed. It was Julian Cross. When I opened the door, I was met by a tall, sharply dressed man with piercing gray eyes and a briefcase that looked heavier than it should be.
"Ms. Hayes," he said, using my maiden name. I liked him already. "We don't have much time."
We sat at my dining table, watching progress bars crawl across Julian's specialized forensic equipment.
"Your ex-husband is sloppy," Julian murmured, his fingers flying across his keyboard. "He masked the IP addresses, but he didn't realize that your laptop's internal biometric sensors log exactly who is sitting in front of the screen during major transactions."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Sterling Point installed a hidden security feature on all executive laptops last year. Whenever a transfer over one million dollars is initiated, the webcam takes a silent, encrypted burst of photos to verify the user."
Julian hit the enter key with a satisfying click. A folder popped open on the screen. Dozens of high-resolution photos appeared. In every single one of them, it wasn't me sitting at the laptop. It was Brandon. Usually late at night, illuminated by the glow of the screen, greed etched into his features.
"We have him," I whispered.
May you like
"Not yet," Julian cautioned, closing the folder and locking the encrypted drive. "Brandon doesn't know about the biometric photos, but he knows you have the laptop. He is desperate. And desperate men who are looking at twenty years in federal prison do not surrender quietly."
Just as he spoke, my phone lit up with a text message from an unknown number. You think you're so smart, Olivia. But you're about to lose everything.
