Chapter 3 - Tracing The Stolen Millions Across International Bank Lines
The private study on the top floor of the Blackwood estate smelled of aged leather, bourbon, and quiet corruption.
I locked the oak door behind me, my hands trembling as I pulled my laptop from its leather briefcase.
The corporate legal officer’s words echoed relentlessly in my ears: The money you were trying to protect is gone.
Sixty-three million, four hundred thousand dollars had vanished from our primary joint holdings exactly forty-eight hours prior.
I bypassed the domestic firewalls, diving straight into the encrypted routing logs of the Cayman Islands shell accounts.
Line after line of cryptic hexadecimal code scrolled across the screen under the dim glow of the desk lamp.
The transfer wasn't executed through a standard domestic wire; it was funneled via an anonymous intermediary corporation in Zurich.
Grant and Eleanor had been setting this trap for months, waiting for the exact moment to drain the trust dry.
They had baited me into attempting a freeze, knowing I would trigger their pre-programmed asset flight sequence automatically.
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My reflection in the dark glass screen showed a pale woman with blood dried against her forehead and murder in her eyes.
They thought they had left me completely penniless and defenseless inside a cage of their own design.
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