“But you said—”
“I said I’d quit.”
“You’re supposed to do it this morning.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She stood up.
“Sofia.”
I turned.
She walked toward me.
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“So where are you going?”
I smiled.
“To resign.”
She seemed satisfied.
Then I walked out the front door.
The moment it closed behind me, I let out the breath I had been holding.
I didn’t drive directly to the office.
I drove to a coffee shop three blocks away.
I parked.
Opened my laptop.
And started researching.
The account number I had found belonged to a local financial institution.
The account holder’s name wasn’t immediately visible.
But I knew enough to start digging.
I pulled up every transaction from the previous twelve months.
The transfers were always made in amounts small enough not to attract attention.
$480.
$750.
$1,200.
$950.
Then suddenly—
$4,800.
I stared at the screen.
