“Hospital records. Bank transfers. Anything that traces the money.”
She paused.
“I’ll come over in the morning. We’ll figure this out together.”
By sunrise, I hadn’t slept. My eyes burned. I splashed cold water on my face and looked in the mirror. I was pale, with dark circles under my eyes. My belly was a small, distinct curve now. Four months. The baby was growing, oblivious to the chaos. Maya arrived at nine with breakfast.
“Eat something,” she insisted, pushing a bagel and coffee toward me.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat,” she said, breaking off a piece and handing it to me. “You’re eating for two.”
I forced myself to take a bite. It tasted like cardboard.
“I looked up Leo’s company,” Maya said, opening her laptop. “It’s called Sterling Tech Solutions. Software development. Founded three years ago. It was doing well, but cash flow problems started last year, right around the time his mom was diagnosed.”
“So he did use company funds for her treatment.”
“It’s more than that,” Maya said, her face grim. “I had a friend in hospital administration pull the records. His mom’s treatment cost, conservatively, over half a million dollars. Targeted therapy. Immunotherapy. Those imported drugs aren’t covered by insurance.”
“Maya… but even that shouldn’t have sunk the company. There has to be more to the story.”
She looked at me.
“We need to get into his office.”
Leo’s office was on the sixteenth floor of a downtown building. When we arrived, the entrance was sealed with police tape. Inside, the office was dark and empty, papers scattered on desks.
“We can’t get in,” Maya said.
“Maybe we can,” I said, spotting a janitor down the hall.
“Excuse me,” I said, approaching her. “Do you know what happened to the people from this company?”
“Got arrested, I think,” she said, shaking her head. “Cops came yesterday, took the boss away. Everyone else just left.”
“Do you know where they keep a spare key?”
“Building management has one, but you can’t go in now. It’s a crime scene.”
I thanked her and pulled Maya into the stairwell.
“Now what?” Maya asked.
I thought for a moment, then took out my phone and called the number for Leo’s assistant. It rang for a long time before a weary young man’s voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Chloe Miller, Leo Sterling’s wife.”
There was a silence.
“Mrs. Sterling… the company is…”
“I know,” I cut him off. “I just need to ask you something. Did Leo ever keep important files somewhere outside the main server?”
The assistant hesitated.
“Mr. Sterling told me if anything ever happened, I was to give you a USB drive. It’s in a safe in the break room. The combination is his mother’s birthday.”
“But the office is sealed.”
“The safe is in a hidden compartment,” he whispered. “The police might have missed it. I can tell you how to get in.”
Half an hour later, we were in the building’s service corridors. A ventilation shaft led to the ceiling of the break room. Maya boosted me up. It was a clumsy, difficult climb with my belly, but I was running on pure adrenaline. The break room was a mess. The safe was exactly where the assistant said it would be, hidden behind a bookcase. I punched in Leo’s mother’s birthday. The door clicked open. Inside was a USB drive, several ledgers, and a thick stack of medical receipts.
Back at my apartment, we plugged in the drive. It contained the company’s complete financial records and a password-protected folder labeled personal. After a few guesses, I tried his mom’s name. It opened. Inside was a single document. Leo’s journal. It started three years ago, chronicling his struggles starting the business, his despair over his mother’s illness, and the truth behind the company’s downfall. The twelfth of May 2023: Mom was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. Doctors say six months unless we try the new imported drugs. The third of June 2023: The medicine is insanely expensive. $50,000 a treatment. The company is just getting off the ground. We don’t have that kind of cash. The fifteenth of July 2023: My uncle introduced me to an investor. He’s willing to put in $1 million, but the terms are predatory. The second of August 2023: Signed the deal. Looking back, the terms are terrible, but I had no choice. The tenth of September 2023: Mom’s condition is stable. The money is disappearing like water. The twenty-fifth of October 2023: The investor is demanding an early dividend payment. The company’s cash flow is about to snap. The thirtieth of November 2023: I had to cook the books. I know it’s a crime, but it was the only way. The fifth of January 2024: Mom wants to see me married. I tried a few dating sites. They all run when they hear about her illness. The seventeenth of January 2024: Met Chloe at city hall. Two lost souls. We got married. The twentieth of January 2024: She’s pregnant with her ex’s child. She says she’ll handle it. The twenty-fifth of January 2024: Mom passed away. She was peaceful. She thought I’d found happiness. The third of February 2024: I want to try with Chloe. Maybe we can have a real family. The journal ended there. My hands were shaking.
“Who was the investor?” Maya asked.
I scanned the ledgers and found the name.
“New Horizons Capital.”
“This company?” Maya did a quick search. “The CEO is a man named Daniel Vance.”
“Vance?”
My heart stopped.
“Any relation to Alex?”
Maya made a call. A few minutes later, she came back, her face pale.
“Daniel Vance is Alex’s uncle.”
I gasped.
“So it was a setup from the very beginning.”
“It looks that way,” Maya said. “Alex knew Leo was desperate. He had his uncle set a trap. A predatory loan that forced Leo to commit fraud. Then he reported him.”
“But why?” I couldn’t understand the depth of his malice. “Just to get back at me?”
“It’s more than that,” Maya said. “Leo’s company was struggling, but its software patents are extremely valuable. If Leo goes to prison and the company goes bankrupt, those patents can be bought for pennies on the dollar.”
The calculation was monstrously cruel.
“What do we do now?” I asked. “Can this evidence save him? He still committed fraud.”
“Maya,” I said.
She shook her head.
“We need a lawyer.”
That afternoon, we met with a lawyer, a man named Mr. Davies, recommended by Maya’s father. He reviewed the material, his brow furrowed.
“This is not good,” he said bluntly. “The fraud and embezzlement are well documented. Even if he was entrapped, he still committed the acts.”
“What’s the maximum sentence?” I asked.
“If they convict him on wire fraud for that amount, ten years minimum,” Mr. Davies said. “But if we can get it reduced to embezzlement, it could be less than three.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Intent,” he said. “Fraud requires intent to illegally possess. Embezzlement is misappropriating funds you have legal access to. His motive, saving his mother, argues against intent for personal gain.”
“He did it to save his mother’s life,” I said urgently.
Mr. Davies nodded.
“That’s our defense. We argue embezzlement under duress, with entrapment as a mitigating factor. If we’re lucky, we could get it down to three years, maybe even get probation.”
“How much will this cost?” I asked.
“My retainer is $50,000,” he said. “If it goes to a full trial, it will be more.”
I fell silent. My savings were limited, and I had a baby on the way.
“I can help,” Maya said.
“No.”
