The invoices looked clean.
The descriptions were vague.
Strategic analysis.
Market-entry research.
Executive support.
But Northbridge had no employees.
No office.
No website.
The registered agent was Bianca’s cousin.
The money moved through Northbridge and then into expenses for Bianca.
Adrian had been sloppy.
He believed nobody would question him.
He believed the company belonged to him.
That belief was going to cost him more than his marriage.
At six that evening, my attorney arrived.
Her name was Claire Donovan.
She had handled my father’s estate.
She had also designed the trust that held my shares.
Claire entered the suite carrying two thick folders.
She looked at my suitcase.
“Only one?”
“That was the point.”
She nodded.
“Did he open the medical report?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“He called fourteen times in twenty minutes.”
Claire almost smiled.
Then she became serious.
“Naomi, once we start this, there is no clean way back.”
