The second sign is a cashier’s check.
The third is a shell within a shell within a shell. She’s trying to hide her money. Too late mom!
I sit in a borrowed office above the bank with spreadsheets spread across the desk when the pattern finally locks into place.
Northstar Development Group.
Silver Pine Holdings.
Greyfield Trust.
Different names.
Different paperwork.
Same fingerprints.
“She’s not buying property,” I murmur.
“She’s buying leverage.”
I trace the transactions backward.
Every purchase touches something essential.
Infrastructure.
Pressure points.
The water line easement.
The fiber relay station.
The fuel depot access road.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing obvious.
Just enough control to make an entire town dependent.
Then I see it.
One pending contract.
The small medical clinic on the edge of town.
My blood runs cold.
I grab my phone and call Saint.
“She’s not just circling Main Street,” I say the second he answers. “She’s building a chokehold.”
I pull up one more file.
And there it is.
A quiet bid.
