Chapter 8 - The Paper Trail
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Richard frowned, reaching into his tuxedo pocket to pull out his phone. The screen was flashing with a dozen unread notifications and missed calls from his senior managing partner at Whitmore Financial.
"What is this?" Richard muttered, his brow furrowing as he unlocked the device.
"At 7:45 PM—exactly fifteen minutes before Eleanor took the stage—an encrypted anonymous file was delivered to the Office of the United States Attorney for the Eastern District," I said softly, crossing my arms over my stained bodice. "Included in that file were eighty-four pages of falsified tax returns, offshore wire transfers to Grand Cayman, and a digital recording of Daniel explaining how you used my father's stolen patent to leverage your bank's line of credit."
Daniel dropped to his knees right there on the Persian rug. "Maya... no... you didn't..."
"Daniel?" Eleanor cried out, running to her son's side. "Daniel, what is she talking about? What recording?"
Daniel covered his face with his hands. "The night I got drunk at the beach house... three months ago... she asked me how my dad got the capital for the expansion. I... I told her."
Eleanor turned her head toward her son, her eyes wide with absolute horror. She slapped him across the face—a loud, cracking sound that echoed through the library.
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"You idiot!" Eleanor screamed. "You pathetic, brainless idiot!"
"Don't blame Daniel, Eleanor," I said calmly, stepping around the desk. "He didn't ruin your life tonight. You did. When you walked into my dressing room three hours ago with a bucket of garbage water, you thought you were putting a poor girl in her place. You were so blinded by your own arrogance that you never considered I was waiting for you to give me a reason to burn it all down."
