Chapter 12 - Whispers in the Desk
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While the deputies searched the lower level to log missing items, I walked into Adrian’s home office.
The room smelled faintly of his expensive cologne and stale whiskey. His main desktop computer had been removed, leaving bare wires hanging from the mahogany desk.
I sat down in his leather chair, exhausted. As I rested my arms on the desk, my knee hit a false panel near the bottom drawer—a hidden compartment Adrian had installed years ago to store cash and private documents.
I reached down, pressed the hidden spring, and the panel popped open.
Inside lay a black burner smartphone, plugged into a portable charger, along with a stack of printed bank ledgers.
My hands trembled as I unplugged the phone. It wasn't password-protected. I opened the messaging app.
There were hundreds of text messages between Adrian and Bianca spanning the last six months. I scrolled through them, my blood running cold.
Bianca (June 2): "Is she still refusing to sign the separation paper?"
Adrian (June 2): "Yes. She thinks she's entitled to half of Lumina stock. Don't worry, once the baby arrives, she'll be too exhausted to fight. We'll file for full custody immediately, claiming she's mentally unfit and financially unstable."
Bianca (June 10): "What about her health insurance? If she delivers at St. Jude, it’ll cost fifty grand out of pocket."
Adrian (June 10): "Let it. Once she gets the hospital bill, she’ll sign whatever we put in front of her. Fear makes people reasonable."
I scrolled further down, finding messages referencing a corporate entity called "Northgate Advisory."
May you like
Adrian (May 14): "Transferred another $150k from the Lumina reserve account to Northgate. Make sure your cousin clears the offshore ledger before the quarter-end audit."
I gripped the burner phone tight to my chest. This wasn't just evidence of domestic abuse—it was proof of massive corporate fraud.
