Chapter 1 - The First Audit
The cool night air of the estate hit my face like a cleansing wave. Behind us, the heavy oak doors muffled the rising hysteria of a family whose entire empire had just evaporated into thin air. Sloan walked stride for stride beside me, her heels clicking rhythmically against the paved stone driveway where my matte-black sedan idled, its headlights cutting amber paths through the manicured hedges.
"They'll move fast," Sloan said, pulling a digital tablet from her leather folio as she slipped into the passenger seat. Her tone was strictly professional, devoid of any lingering adrenaline from the dining room ambush. "Barrett has a network of old-guard creditors who operate outside traditional commercial banking. If he smells blood in the water—or realizes you actually hold the notes—he’ll try to file an emergency injunction to buy time."
I slid behind the wheel, the engine purring to life with a low, satisfying hum. "Let him try. Silas already has the forensic accounting team deployed to the main logistics warehouse downtown, right?"
"Thirty minutes ago," Sloan replied, tapping the screen. "And that brings us to the first complication. It’s not just about the logistics firm going under. The warehouse isn't just holding empty shipping containers. Silas flagged something unusual in the manifest logs from three weeks ago—a discrepancy regarding a high-value shipment of microprocessors allegedly bound for an overseas distributor in Singapore."
I shifted into drive, pulling away from the estate without a single backward glance at the glowing windows of the dining room. "What kind of discrepancy?"
"The kind that suggests Rhett wasn't just losing money on normal freight shipping," Sloan said, turning the tablet so I could catch the glow of a spreadsheet in the dashboard light. "The inventory numbers don't match the customs filings. Someone cleared four million dollars in components under your family company's old corporate charter—the exact charter Barrett forced you to sign over to Rhett during the buyout seven years ago."
My grip tightened on the leather steering wheel. The old charter. That document wasn't just a piece of paper; it was the legal instrument they had used to squeeze me out, claiming my code and my client list belonged to the family collective. If Rhett was using that specific dormant entity to move unaccounted-for hardware, this wasn't just a standard commercial default. It crossed into federal territory.
"Does Silas have the physical paper trail?" I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on the winding road ahead.
"Not yet. That's why we're meeting him at the warehouse instead of going home," Sloan said, locking her screen. "And Cormick? There's someone else already inside the building waiting for you. Someone who claims they didn't know anything about Rhett's shell game until an hour ago—and they want a deal before your auditors tear the filing cabinets apart."
"Who?"
"Your uncle Arthur."
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I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. Arthur hadn't spoken to me since the day I was kicked out of the family office, choosing to side with Barrett to secure his own cushy seat on the board. If Arthur was crawling out of the woodwork tonight, it meant the rats were officially abandoning the sinking ship—and he had something very valuable to trade.
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