The mahogany desk lamp casts harsh shadows across financial records that sprawl before me like accusatory fingers, each document another thread in Derek's web of betrayal that grows more intricate the deeper I dig. My eyes burn from hours of scrutinizing bank statements and transaction logs, the numbers blurring together until they form patterns of deception so elegant in their complexity that I almost admire the craftsmanship. Almost. The taste of stale coffee lingers bitter on my tongue, my third cup of the evening now cold and forgotten beside a stack of offshore account statements that paint Derek's escape route in damning detail.
The city spreads below my sixteenth-floor window, its lights twinkling like fallen stars against the darkness that has settled over downtown. I lean back in
