Chapter 4 - THE PAPER TRAIL
The next forty-eight hours were a whirlwind of legal filings and forensic deep-dives. I transformed the grand dining room into a war room. Elias practically moved in, bringing two accountants who lived on espresso and sheer determination. They tracked every single penny Bryce had stolen, and the truth they uncovered was far more pathetic than I had anticipated.
Bryce hadn't just taken the money for "family emergencies." He had been funding a completely parallel life for his relatives to stroke his own ego. The accountants pulled the records, spreading the printed spreadsheets across the long mahogany table.
"Look at this," Elias said, pointing a gold pen at a highlighted row of transactions. "The four hundred and thirty thousand? He used it to purchase a condo in downtown Seattle for his sister. Paid in full. Samantha didn't just 'need a place to stay' because of her divorce; Bryce bought her a luxury penthouse."
My jaw tightened. "With my money. He bought his sister a penthouse with the money I earned working eighty-hour weeks for a decade."
"It gets worse," one of the accountants chimed in, sliding another folder toward me. "The other transfers were used to pay off his parents' massive credit card debt and cover the mortgage on a vacation home in Aspen they were about to lose to foreclosure. He’s been playing the wealthy savior to his family, letting them believe he was the mastermind behind your company’s success."
It all made a sickening kind of sense now. The way Eleanor always looked at me with thinly veiled condescension. The way Samantha would make snide comments about me being a "workaholic" while praising her brother's "brilliant investments." Bryce had painted a masterpiece of deception, casting himself as the genius provider and me as the lucky tag-along.
"What's our move?" I asked, looking up at Elias.
"We strike fast and we strike hard," Elias replied, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the kill. "I've drafted the divorce papers. We are filing for an absolute dissolution of marriage based on financial infidelity and fraud. We are also slapping a lien on Samantha’s condo and the Aspen property. They were purchased with stolen funds, which means they belong to you."
"Can we actually take the properties back?" I asked, a spark of vicious satisfaction igniting in my chest.
"Oh, we aren't just taking them back," Elias grinned. "We are evicting them. By the time we are done, Bryce won't even be able to afford a bus pass."
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That afternoon, my phone blew up with messages. Bryce’s parents called repeatedly, leaving frantic, tearful voicemails. Samantha texted me a barrage of insults, threatening to sue me for defamation, entirely unaware that the legal anvil was already hovering directly over her head. Bryce, however, was silent. I knew his silence wasn't born of remorse; it was the silence of a coward trying to figure out how to lie his way out of a burning building.
I sat by the edge of my pristine swimming pool, the water reflecting the golden hour sun. My heart, which had felt so bruised and hollow just two days ago, was hardening into diamonds. I was going to ruin him.
