The wax seal crumbled under my thumb like old earth.
Inside the heavy envelope lay sixty pages of forensic tracking logs, corporate registries, and bank statements. I slowly turned the pages under the amber glow of the pendant light, the steam from my Earl Grey curling into the cold kitchen air. Evelyn remained standing by the counter, her hands folded neatly over her damp bar towel, watching me with a steady, unblinking intensity.
“He thought he was being clever by routing the capital through a shell company registered in Delaware,” Evelyn said, her voice a low, gravelly hum. “But Gavin doesn’t understand how digital banking compliance operates. He used Sterling and Sage’s merchant processing account as a leverage guarantor to secure a personal line of credit. A line of credit he used to purchase the estate on Oakhaven Court.”
I stopped on page fourteen. There it was: a wire transfer authorization for $350,000, drawn against our restaurant’s reserve account. It was dated four months ago. Gavin’s signature was scrawled at the bottom, right alongside a forged digital rendering of my own initials.
“The new house,” I murmured, the pieces of the puzzle locking together with sickening precision.
“The new house,” Evelyn confirmed. “He didn’t buy it with family inheritance or smart trading like he told you. He leveraged your blood, sweat, and tears to buy a luxury estate for Brooke. And look at the corporate registration for the property, Audrey. Turn to page twenty-two.”
I flipped the page. The deed of ownership for the residential estate on Oakhaven Court wasn’t listed under Gavin’s name. It was held by a private asset management trust titled The First Star Trust.
My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at my grandmother’s gold bracelet on my wrist, the words “First Star” engraved against my skin.
