(Hailey Miller's POV)
The air in the safe apartment hung heavy, thick with the tobacco-sweet cloud from Liam’s e-cigarette and the gravity of what we’d just uncovered. Ethan hadn’t been an unwitting pawn; he’d been a mole—an anxious man trying to paper a path out of hell. The inflated invoices, the digital signature stamped with Silas Morrow’s name—those pages felt less like evidence and more like a loaded weapon aimed at the heart of "The Accountant's" network.
A strange, sharp euphoria pricked at me: vindication braided with a hot, clean-edged rage. Ethan hadn’t left me for Madison on a whim; something darker had dragged him into a net he might have been trying desperately to escape. Liam watched the storm pass across my face, his silence doing as much work as any question.
“We’ll use
