Chapter 3 - The Ghost Ledger
Arthur took us to a secure penthouse in downtown LA, entirely off the grid. Once we were safely inside, I pulled the black flash drive from my pocket and set it on the glass table.
"Maria," I said, looking at the woman who had risked her life for me. "How did you find this?"
Maria sat down, her posture rigid and proud. "When Eleanor packed her bags to leave you, she ordered me to clear out your private safe. But she was careless. She left behind a false bottom in one of the moving boxes. I found the drive, the cash, and the routing documents. I hid them in the guest room until I could decode them."
Arthur plugged the drive into his laptop. His fingers flew across the keyboard. After a few tense minutes, the screen illuminated with thousands of lines of data.
"My God," Arthur breathed. "It’s a ghost ledger. Marcus and Eleanor didn't just steal your money, Richard. They’ve been laundering funds for a cartel out of Sinaloa. Your real estate projects were just the front."
My blood ran cold. My ex-wife and my best friend had turned my legacy into a criminal enterprise.
"But there's a firewall," Arthur frowned, hitting a key in frustration. "I can't access the actual bank accounts. It requires a biometric key. A fingerprint or a retinal scan from one of the account holders."
"Eleanor," I said, a dangerous calmness washing over me. "She handles the offshore shell companies."
"She’s hosting a charity gala tomorrow night at her new mansion in Beverly Hills," Arthur noted, pulling up a digital invitation. "It's a fortress. Armed guards, facial recognition cameras. You can't just walk in."
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I looked at Maria. She smiled, a sharp, brilliant smile.
"I hired the catering staff for that house," Maria said smoothly. "I know the service entrances. I know the blind spots. We are going to crash a party."
