The call came at 7:12 the next morning.
Scott didn’t answer.
His attorney called again.
And again.
By the fifth attempt, Scott finally picked up.
“What?”
The word came out harsher than he intended.
His lawyer didn’t react.
“We have a problem.”
Scott rubbed his eyes.
The celebration party had ended badly.
Most of his guests had left without saying goodbye.
Two had texted him afterward asking if everything was okay.
One hadn’t responded to him at all.
“What now?” Scott asked.
“The auditors have started requesting records.”
“So give them the records.”
A long pause followed.
Then his attorney said quietly, “They’re requesting records from accounts you didn’t disclose.”
Scott sat upright.
“What accounts?”
“Don’t do that.”
The lawyer’s voice was flat.
“Don’t pretend with me.”
Silence.
The attorney continued.
“The transfers. The consulting payments. The investment account in Nevada. They know those exist.”
Scott felt a knot form in his stomach.
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
But they both knew.
Somewhere.
Somehow.
Someone had found the trail.
Across town, Emily was making coffee when Catherine arrived.
For the first time in months, Catherine was smiling.
A real smile.
Not the careful professional one she usually wore.
Emily noticed immediately.
“That’s either very good news or very bad news.”
“It’s excellent news.”
Catherine set a folder on the kitchen table.
Emily looked at it cautiously.
“What is it?”
“The beginning.”
Emily opened the folder.
Inside were spreadsheets.
Bank records.
Transfer histories.
Corporate filings.
Pages and pages of documents.
Her eyes widened.
“I don’t understand half of this.”
“You don’t need to.”
Catherine sat down.
“I do.”
She pointed to a highlighted section.
“This account received money from Scott’s company.”
Then another.
“And this one.”
Then another.
“And this one.”
Emily frowned.
“There are dozens.”
“Exactly.”
Catherine folded her hands.
“People who are hiding money usually make one mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“They think they’re smarter than everyone else.”
Emily couldn’t help smiling.
That sounded familiar.
Three days later, the first audit report arrived.
Scott received his copy at noon.
By twelve-ten, he was pacing his office.
By twelve-fifteen, he was yelling.
By twelve-twenty, he was throwing things.
The report wasn’t final.
It didn’t need to be.
The preliminary findings were bad enough.
Undisclosed transfers.
Missing disclosures.
Inconsistent reporting.
Questions about company ownership.
Questions about account access.
Questions about asset valuation.
Questions.
Questions.
Questions.
Every page seemed to create ten more.
His phone rang.
He didn’t need to look.
He already knew who it was.
His girlfriend.
Again.
The woman had barely spoken to him since the court hearing.
When she finally did call, it wasn’t to comfort him.
It was to ask questions.
Questions he didn’t want to answer.
Questions he couldn’t answer.
The phone stopped ringing.
A message appeared instead.
Were you lying to me too?
Scott stared at the screen.
For several seconds he didn’t move.
Then he locked the phone and set it face down.
Because he already knew the answer.
The second audit report arrived the following week.
This one contained something different.
A timeline.
Years of transactions arranged in chronological order.
Money moving from one account to another.
Then another.
Then another.
A maze designed to confuse anyone looking at it.
But accountants loved mazes.
Finding the exit was their job.
And near the center of that timeline was a transaction that made Catherine stop reading.
She immediately picked up the phone.
Emily answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
Catherine didn’t waste time.
“I need you to sit down.”
Emily’s pulse quickened.
“What happened?”
“We found something.”
The silence stretched.
“What kind of something?”
Catherine looked at the highlighted line.
A transfer.
Dated eight years earlier.
For an amount large enough to change everything.
Her voice softened.
“Emily…”
“What?”
