Chapter 6 - The Paper Trail
The hospital room was dead silent as my father stared at the offshore banking data on my phone.
David had set the ultimate trap.
He knew he couldn't beat a Supreme Court Justice in a physical fight or a standard domestic abuse case.
So he had carefully orchestrated a massive financial crime and framed his vulnerable wife.
“He used my digital signature from our tax returns to open these accounts,” I realized out loud.
My father’s jaw tightened in cold fury.
“This is cartel money, Anna.”
“David's law firm has been under suspicion of laundering dirty money for the Chicago syndicate for years.”
“I didn't think he was stupid enough to involve his own family.”
“What do we do?” I asked, feeling the walls closing in.
“I have to recuse myself from the financial investigation immediately,” my father said with heavy regret.
“If I try to intervene in a federal money laundering probe involving my own daughter, it will look like judicial corruption.”
“David knows my hands are tied by the ethics of my office.”
I felt a sudden, terrifying sense of isolation.
My father could protect me with armed guards, but he could not protect me from a federal indictment.
I had to fight David using my own intelligence.
“I need a laptop and a secure internet connection,” I demanded, sitting up despite the pain in my ribs.
My father nodded, making a quick phone call to his security detail.
Within ten minutes, a clean, encrypted laptop was placed on my tray table.
I spent the next six hours digging through the public tax records of Vance and Hughes, David's prestigious law firm.
I cross-referenced the offshore deposits with the firm's real estate acquisitions.
By midnight, I had found the glaring mistake David had made.
He had transferred the dirty money into my name, but the IP address used to authorize the transfers belonged to his mother’s house.
Sylvia wasn't just a cruel mother-in-law.
She was the primary account manager for the offshore shell companies.
I smiled for the first time since Christmas Eve.
I printed the digital logs and handed them to the lead Marshal standing outside my door.
“Send this to the financial crimes division of the FBI anonymously,” I instructed.
I finally laid my head back against the pillows, ready to sleep.
I had just given the authorities everything they needed to arrest Sylvia for federal racketeering.
My phone suddenly buzzed with a text message from an unknown number.
I opened it, expecting a threat from David.
Instead, it was a live video link.
I clicked the link, and my heart completely stopped in my chest.
The video showed my hospital room from a high, hidden angle.
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It showed me typing on the laptop, and it showed the Marshal taking the printed papers.
The message below the video read: “Did you really think the Marshals were the only ones watching you?”
