The pen rolls to a stop inches from my hand.
“If you refuse,” she continues calmly, “this entire box goes public.”
I realize too late that she’s backed me into a corner. If I don’t sign and give over Holloway, I might destroy Jayce’s life, and I’ll definitely destroy mine. It’s my family’s business and legacy, or the people I love most.
The choice is mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: RACE AGAINST TIME
JAYCE
My grandfather’s trusted P.I.,Harvey, pushes yet another file across his desk toward me. I clench my jaw in anticipation. His dark eyes don’t blink. Part of me doesn’t even want to bother looking at it—because I’m more than convinced of what Harvey’s telling me by this point—but his wrinkled frown tells me that he isn’t going to let me miss any bit of information he uncovered. That’s why I hired him, after all, and why Grandfather always trusted him.
“That’s everything,” he tells me. “They’ve been busy.”
He’s shown me pictures, financial reports, school records, and police reports already, and they all paint a clear picture of a sick plot that the Holloways weren’t even aware was being enacted against them. I knew Harvey was a man who would safely get this info to me, and he’s proved himself once again. There’s no questioning the truth about what is happening at this point.
And there’s one person behind it all.
Aubrey Reynolds.
She was responsible for Holloway Architecture’s collapse all those years ago, pulling strings in the shadows and bleeding the company out. That wasn’t her only scheme, though, and the Holloways weren’t her only targets…just the most personal ones, it seems.
Aubrey and her late husband were prolific conmen.
The realization settles over me slowly as I scroll through the files in front of me.
“Wire fraud,” Harvey says, in his gravelly voice. “Banking fraud. Shell companies…”
I flip another page.
“Jesus,” I murmur.
“It gets worse,” Harvey says.
I drag a hand down my face before leaning back in my chair.
“Let me guess, their company…”
“Wasn’t their primary source of income,” Harvey finishes, tapping the folder. “It was a front.”
The words make my stomach twist.
“For what exactly?” I ask.
Harvey opens another file, sliding several documents across the table toward me.
“Fraud schemes mostly. Wire transfers routed through offshore accounts. Identity manipulation. Fabricated contracts. They created a legitimate-looking company, and they used it to build trust with investors or partners, to then siphon money through fake projects.”
I stare at the pages. There are bank statements, transaction chains, and corporate filings.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
Harvey nods grimly. “They’re real damn good at it.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’m seeing that.”
Harvey leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk.
