Enzo turns around, looking tired behind his glasses. “I’ve been working on tracing the financial information for Avarice…”
“Are you close?” Ava asks.
He glances over his shoulder, but barely, as if she’s asked that enough times to make him feel he should have cracked it by now.
The room goes quiet except for the low hum of a few laptop fans, the rapid tapping of Enzo’s keyboard, and the clicking from Ava’s mouse.
Rio walks over to the window with his coffee and stares out. I wonder if he’s thinking about Mariana. I know the feeling of waiting many years for justice to finally be within your grasp.
I’ll never forget the night of Ava’s so-called escape from captivity.
I know the pain of waiting…not knowing if the hero or the villain would win.
Back then, it was Ava’s life in the balance. Now it’s Rio’s vengeance, Freya’s career, her safety, our kid’s future—all tied to the same thin thread: whether the truth comes out clean or comes out covered in blood.
We need this done before Ingram returns.
Finally, Enzo taps his keyboard with one triumphant thud. “I’m in.”
We all crowd into the space behind him.
He scrolls down the statements on his screen. “Shit. There aren’t many transactions.” He clicks again. “I need a yearly view.” A few more clicks. And then he freezes.
I lean over to get a better look at his screen.
Rio mutters, “Damn.”
There, on the screen, is Zoe Marshall’s name and bank details. A transfer of ten thousand dollars. The transaction date was five days before her accident.
The room falls silent as if Zoe just died for a second time in front of all of us. The air feels thicker, heavier. Zoe stopsbeing a case for a second and becomes a young woman again.
Rio steps in closer, the muscles along his jaw tightening. He’s not blinking, not breathing right, not even pretending to be calm anymore. This isn’t GhostEye’s Rio. This is Mariana’s Rio.
He points at the screen. “Who owns the account?” His words carry something volatile.
Enzo scrolls again, taking in more detail from what he found. He furrows his eyebrows. “This is strange… This account was opened ten years ago, but it barely shows any activity.” He’s talking to himself more than to us.
“We just need the name,” Rio says, impatiently.
Enzo ignores him and continues to search.
Rio exhales once with frustration.
Then, ice makes its way through Enzo’s veins. “No…”
Whatever air was left in the room vanishes.
My blood runs cold when I see him like this. “What is it?”
“There was another transfer of ten thousand ten months ago. To a woman named Emily Vargas.”
Ava scrunches her nose. “Emily?”
Enzo’s scrolling faster now, following a thread none of us can see. “Eighteen months ago—another ten grand. To Lauren Bishop.”
What the fuck…
Enzo rips his glasses off. “A little over two years ago…a payment to Alyssa Reed.” He shoves his fingers into his eye sockets.
