Kurtis POV
"Lyra, look at this," Kurtis said, sliding a stack of reports across the polished oak table. His jaw was tight, his fingers drumming on the edge. "The numbers don’t match. These transactions here, they’re off by thousands, maybe more."
Lyra leaned over, her brow furrowing as her sharp eyes scanned the pages. The faint scent of coffee lingered between them, but neither seemed to notice. The tension in the room was palpable.
"These..." she murmured, flipping between the reports and the accompanying spreadsheets. "These don’t just not match, Kurtis. They’re deliberately altered. Look at the timestamps on these trades. Someone is covering their tracks."
Kurtis exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "That’s what I’m afraid of."
Lyra straightened, tapping her pen
