Chapter 17 – Blood Money Foundations
Sharon sat in a small, dimly lit café in Zurich, the hum of conversation around her fading into a low murmur. The USB drive she had secured from the vault was on the table in front of her, its contents loaded onto her laptop.
Her fingers hovered over the keys as she scrolled through spreadsheets and PDFs, each file more shocking than the last.
Charity funds - the kind that made Laurent Global look philanthropic in public - were being funneled into untraceable accounts.
And the destinations were horrifying.
Arms manufacturers. Political lobbyists. Offshore accounts in countries notorious for corruption.
Millions, even billions, were siphoned with the veneer of legitimacy. Each donation, each grant, each charitable contribution was a meticulously constructed façade.
Sharon leaned back in her chair, trying to breathe. The image of Laurent Global's public face - elegant, philanthropic, untouchable - was being stripped away.
The numbers made her stomach churn.
$52 million - Military contractors, Eastern Europe
$18 million - Political consultants, Middle East
$7 million - Private security firms, North Africa
And that was just the beginning.
Sharon's eyes fell on a file labeled Project Albatross.
The documents outlined arms shipments that were "donated" under the guise of humanitarian aid. Weapons diverted to conflict zones. Payments laundered through charity accounts. Political influence bought, and bribery contracts signed in shadowed offices far from public scrutiny.
Her hands shook.
This wasn't just corporate corruption. This was death. Blood on the hands of people who smiled at galas and posed for press photos.
The thought of the real Georgia... the one who might have tried to stop this from the inside... made her stomach knot.
Sharon realized the stakes of impersonating her: the more she uncovered, the closer she came to painting a target on herself.
And she wasn't alone. Someone - or several someones - had noticed her movements. Every step was being monitored. Every click of the laptop, every email opened, every document scanned.
She glanced at the café's entrance, half-expecting to see a shadowed figure watching her.
The thought made her blood run cold.
The black phone buzzed. Another message:
They know you've seen the ledgers. Move. Trust no one. Survival requires deception.
Sharon's pulse accelerated.
She realized the truth: uncovering this network wasn't just about exposing financial crimes.
It was about evading death.
The room seemed to close in around her. Every patron, every waiter, every passerby could be an operative.
She stuffed the laptop and USB drive into her bag and stood.
As she exited the café, rain began to fall, soft and persistent. Shadows formed in every corner. Footsteps echoed behind her, faint at first, then deliberate.
Her instincts screamed: run.
The world she had stepped into - the world of Georgia Laurent - was built on wealth, power, and death.
And the first real blood she had touched wasn't on her hands yet.
It was in the money she held, in the ledgers she memorized, in the shadows that now pursued her.
Somewhere, in a private office far from Zurich, people knew she had found the truth.
And now... she had to survive long enough to expose it.
Or die trying.
