Der Cousin meines Mannes hat mir bei einem Familien-Barbecue das Gesicht zertrümmert – woraufhin mein Mann sein Vermögen verpfändete, um sie zu vernichten.

Shaw looked at Hayes.

“Your father is running out of ways to keep people from looking at the books.”

After Shaw left, Hayes sat beside me.

He looked exhausted.

“I used to think my father was just controlling.”

I watched him.

He continued.

“I thought he was arrogant. Difficult. Obsessed with the family name.”

He shook his head.

“But this…”

I reached for his hand.

He looked at me.

“How many people did he hurt?”

I didn’t know.

Neither did he.

That was the frightening part.

Every time we uncovered one lie, another appeared behind it.

A hidden weapon.

A false witness statement.

A missing recording.

A questionable loan.

A secret company.

A man who had been injured and paid to stay quiet.

A grandfather whose final moments had been concealed.

And now financial records that suggested years of deception.

I wrote slowly.

WE DON’T HAVE TO SOLVE EVERYTHING TODAY.

Hayes read it.

Then nodded.

“I know.”

I wrote another sentence.

BUT WE DON’T STOP.

He looked at me.

For a moment, something like his old smile returned.

“No,” he said. “We don’t.”

That night, Evelyn brought the first results of the financial review.

The numbers were staggering.

Millions of dollars had moved through companies with overlapping ownership.

Some transactions appeared legitimate.

Others lacked adequate supporting documents.

And several loans had been secured using property interests whose ownership was disputed.

Hayes studied the report.

“How did this go unnoticed?”

Evelyn looked at him.

“Because the same people controlled the reporting, approvals, and access to records.”

I understood immediately.

In my business, we separated those responsibilities.

The person approving a shipment wasn’t the same person reconciling payments.

The person creating a vendor wasn’t the only person authorized to pay that vendor.

Controls existed because trust wasn’t enough.

Arthur Mercer had understood that.

Orson had apparently spent years weakening those controls.

Evelyn turned a page.

“There’s one account I want you to see.”

Hayes leaned forward.

A large transfer appeared on the screen.

$4,800,000 — MERCER FAMILY RESERVE

He frowned.

“That’s Grandpa’s independent reserve.”

Evelyn nodded.

“The one intended to compensate people harmed by misconduct.”

I stared at the figure.

“Someone attempted to transfer nearly five million dollars out of it,” Evelyn said.

Hayes went still.

“When?”

“Three days before the barbecue.”

My heart began pounding.

Three days before Kale attacked me.

Three days before Hayes transferred his estate.

Three days before everything began falling apart.

Hayes looked at Evelyn.

“Who authorized it?”

She hesitated.

“That’s what concerns me.”

She turned the screen toward us.

The authorization field contained a name.

HAYES MERCER.

My husband stared.

Then shook his head.

“I never approved that.”

Evelyn nodded.

“I believe you.”

He looked at her.

“Then someone forged my authorization.”

“Or used credentials associated with you.”

I reached for my notepad.

WHO HAD ACCESS?

Evelyn looked at Hayes.

He swallowed.

“My father.”

A pause.

“And the family finance office.”

I stared at the screen.

Someone had tried to move millions using Hayes’s identity.

Then, days later, his cousin had attacked me.

And when Hayes transferred his inheritance, the family’s financial arrangements had begun to unravel.

I felt a terrible possibility forming.

What if the attack wasn’t merely a spoiled young man’s outburst?

What if someone had expected it to create a distraction?

Or an excuse?

Or leverage over Hayes?

I wrote the question.

DID THEY KNOW HAYES WOULD TRANSFER HIS ESTATE?

Evelyn read it.

Then slowly shook her head.

“I don’t think they expected that.”

Hayes looked at me.

“Then what did they expect?”

Nobody answered.

At eleven forty-eight that night, my phone vibrated.

A message from Tessa.

MARIN, I FOUND THE PERSON WHO APPROVED THE FAKE SHIPMENTS.

My heart quickened.

I showed Hayes.

Another message arrived.

THE NAME IS IN THE OLD ACCOUNTING SYSTEM.

Then:

BUT THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE DATE.

I typed:

WHAT DATE?

Tessa replied.

THE AUTHORIZATION WAS ENTERED AFTER ARTHUR MERCER DIED.

I stared at the screen.

Another message appeared.

AND THE USER ACCOUNT WAS CREATED USING YOUR COMPANY’S TAX IDENTIFICATION NUMBER.

My blood ran cold.

Ironline hadn’t existed when Arthur died.

I had founded it years later.

That meant someone had altered the records.

Or someone had deliberately connected my company to transactions that predated its existence.

I typed:

THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

Tessa replied immediately.

I KNOW.

Then:

SOMEONE HAS BEEN BUILDING A FALSE PAPER TRAIL TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE YOU WERE INVOLVED.

I looked at Hayes.

His expression hardened.

“They’re setting you up.”

I nodded.

Then another message arrived.

MARIN, THERE’S ONE MORE FILE.

I held my breath.

IT’S A SCANNED CONTRACT.

A document appeared.

The title read:

MERCER HOLDINGS — CONFIDENTIAL BENEFICIARY AGREEMENT

Hayes leaned closer.

I opened the file.

The first page contained a list of properties.

The second contained financial obligations.

The third contained signatures.