Marcus’s POV
Breaking into Monica’s office wasn’t part of the original plan, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Stacey had uncovered enough to make Monica squirm, but we needed more—something concrete that couldn’t be dismissed as a coincidence or clerical error.
The building was eerily quiet as I approached her office door, the hum of the elevator fading into the background. I pulled the small set of tools from my jacket pocket, my hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. The lock clicked open after a few tense seconds, and I slipped inside, closing the door softly behind me.
The room was dark, the faint glow of the city lights outside casting long shadows over the sleek desk and neatly organized shelves. Everything about the space screamed control, precision—but that just made it easier to know where to look. Monica was meticulous, and meticulous people always had a system.
I moved quickly, starting with the desk. The top drawer yielded nothing but pens and stationery. The second drawer was filled with standard files—legal documents, meeting agendas—but none of it stood out. I crouched down to check the lower drawers, my pulse pounding louder with every passing second.
That’s when I found it: a ledger tucked inside a folder marked “Private.” It was wedged beneath a pile of routine paperwork, as if hiding in plain sight. My breath caught as I flipped it open, the numbers jumping off the page.
Each transaction was more suspicious than the last: offshore accounts, inflated invoices, and a clear connection to Dad’s business. Monica had been funneling money in and out of shell corporations, her meticulous records betraying her in the end. This was it—the smoking gun we needed.
I snapped photos of every page, my hands shaking slightly as I worked. The quiet click of the camera felt deafening in the silence of the room. My heart raced as I checked my phone to ensure every image was clear. This evidence wasn’t just incriminating; it was explosive.
Just as I slid the folder back into place, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. I froze, every muscle in my body tensing. The footsteps slowed as they approached the door, and I held my breath, praying they would move on.
Seconds stretched into an eternity. The doorknob jiggled slightly, and my stomach dropped. I gripped the edge of the desk, preparing for the worst, but then the footsteps resumed, fading into the distance.
I exhaled slowly, my breath shaking as relief washed over me. Wasting no time, I retraced my steps, slipping out of the office and into the corridor. The elevator ride down felt like an eternity, the folder of evidence burning a metaphorical hole in my pocket despite it being safely stored in my phone.
This wasn’t just a game anymore. The stakes were higher than ever, and the clock was ticking. Monica wouldn’t go down without a fight, but now we had the upper hand. And I wasn’t about to waste it.