“He was still approving false invoices.”
“Yes.”
At noon, my phone rang.
Bianca.
I answered.
She was crying.
“Naomi.”
“What do you want?”
“I need to explain.”
“Go ahead.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
I looked at Claire.
Claire rolled her eyes.
Bianca continued.
“Adrian said your marriage was over.”
“It is now.”
“He said you lived separate lives.”
“We did not.”
“He said you knew about us.”
“I did not.”
She started crying harder.
“The babies are his.”
“Then get a test.”
Her crying stopped.
That silence was louder than anything she had said.
“Bianca.”
“They are his.”
“Then get a test.”
“You don’t understand.”
My skin went cold.
“What don’t I understand?”
She lowered her voice.
“Adrian can’t know everything.”
I sat straighter.
Claire noticed.
“Know what?”
Bianca breathed into the phone.
Then she hung up.
I stared at the screen.
Claire leaned forward.
“What did she say?”
I repeated it.
Claire’s expression changed.
“We need to preserve that call.”
“It was not recorded.”
“Your carrier metadata still matters.”
I called Adrian immediately.
For the first time in two days, he did not answer.
At 1:15, Evelyn called.
Her voice shook.
“Adrian is at the house.”
“Good.”
“He is tearing through documents.”
“Why?”
“He says Bianca is lying.”
I closed my eyes.
“Evelyn, do not destroy anything.”
“I am not an idiot.”
“No.”
I looked at Claire.
“But your son has been acting like one.”
She ignored the insult.
Then she said,
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The check.”
“What about it?”
“I want it back.”
I almost laughed.
“It is still on my dining table.”
“You left it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I never wanted your money.”
She was silent.
Then she whispered,
“You wanted control.”
“No.”
I looked out the window.
“I already had control.”
That was the first moment I think Evelyn truly understood the structure of the company.
Adrian had never explained it to her.
He had allowed his mother to believe I was replaceable.
That belief had produced the eighty-million-dollar check.
Now it made her sound very small.
At three, the forensic team found another irregularity.
A private clinic had received three payments through Aster Lane Consulting.
The clinic specialized in reproductive medicine.
The dates were unusual.
They began ten months before the twins were born.
I felt my heartbeat change.
Claire noticed.
“Do you recognize the clinic?”
“No.”
The accountant turned the screen toward me.
The payments were labeled executive wellness consulting.
Twenty-four thousand dollars.
Then thirty-one thousand.
Then forty-eight thousand.
I stared at the numbers.
“Subpoena everything.”
Claire nodded.
“We will need a court order.”
