The manila folder landed on Katie's desk with a thud that seemed to echo my racing heartbeat.
"I've been digging into your husband's charitable foundation," Katie said, her voice carrying that dangerous edge I'd come to recognize. "Clear Heart Charitable Foundation. The one he's so proud of."
I leaned forward, my fingers tracing the embossed logo on the folder. "What did you find?"
Katie's expression darkened as she flipped open the folder, revealing stacks of financial records and spreadsheets. "Discrepancies. Big ones." She tapped a highlighted section. "According to their tax filings, Clear Heart received over $3 million in donations last year alone."
"That sounds about right," I said slowly. "Pierce always bragged about how successful their fundraising campaigns were."
Katie slid a document across the desk. "This is a list of patients who applied for assistance through Clear Heart's pediatric cancer program." Her voice softened slightly. "Twenty-seven children, Emilia. Twenty-seven."
I scanned the names, ages, diagnoses. My stomach clenched as I noticed the dates. "These are all from last year."
"Exactly." Katie's finger traced down to a column of numbers. "Only twelve of these children received assistance. The others were delayed."
"Delayed?"
"Officially, yes." She pulled up another document on her laptop. "Unofficially? The funding was diverted."
I stared at the screen, my legal training allowing me to quickly spot the pattern. "He's using the charity as a money laundering operation."
Katie nodded grimly. "And not just that. Look at this." She pulled up a medical report. "This little girl—Zoe Martinez—needed treatment last September. Her application was approved, but the funds never reached the hospital."
"She died in October," I whispered, the words sticking in my throat.
"Three children died while waiting for treatment that never came," Katie said, her voice tight with controlled fury. "Because Pierce diverted their funding."
---
Chris Harris looked exactly like the investigative journalist he was—sharp-eyed, skeptical, and relentlessly curious. His office at the Chronicle was cluttered with notebooks and photographs, a testament to his relentless pursuit of truth.
"So you're telling me your husband runs a charitable foundation that's actually a money laundering operation?" he asked, his pen poised over his notepad.
"I'm telling you that my husband's charitable foundation has significant discrepancies between donated funds and actual patient assistance," I corrected carefully. "And that those discrepancies have real consequences for children who need help."
Chris's eyes narrowed. "You have evidence?"
I glanced at Katie, who nodded slightly. We'd prepared for this moment, carefully selecting what information to share and what to hold back.
"These are copies of internal financial records," I said, sliding a folder across his desk. "You'll find that over $1.2 million was diverted from pediatric cancer patients to offshore accounts."
Chris leafed through the documents, his expression changing from skepticism to intense interest. "Where did you get these?"
"That's not important," Katie interjected smoothly. "What matters is what you do with them."
Chris looked up, his gaze shifting between us. "This is a big story. If these documents are authentic—"
"They are," I said firmly.
"Then we need to be strategic about how we approach this." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "A story like this could bring down your husband's entire operation."
"Operation?" I repeated.
"The foundation is just the tip of the iceberg," Chris said, tapping the folder. "Based on what I'm seeing here, there's a much bigger story waiting to be told."
---
The house felt different when I returned home that evening. New cameras had been installed at the front and back entrances, their gleaming lenses tracking my movements as I approached the door.
Pierce was waiting in the living room, his posture rigid as he stood by the fireplace. "Where have you been?"
"Shopping," I lied smoothly. "Needed some retail therapy."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "I've installed a new security system. For your protection."
"My protection?" I raised an eyebrow.
"The company has some sensitive information," he said vaguely. "I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea if they see you coming and going at odd hours."
I nodded, pretending to examine one of the new cameras visible through the window. "Very thorough."
"Skyler's been asking for you," he said, his tone softening in that practiced way that once made me feel loved. Now it just made my skin crawl.
"I'll go check on her," I said, turning away.
Behind me, I heard him make a quick call. "Everything's set," he murmured into the phone. "We need to accelerate the timeline."
I paused at the doorway, listening.
"The transfers are almost complete," he continued. "Once the debts are in her name, we can move forward."
I stepped into the hallway, my heart pounding but my face carefully composed. In the reflection of a framed photo on the wall, I caught Pierce watching me, his expression calculating and cold.
He was planning something. Something that would leave me holding all the debt while he disappeared with Lilith and whatever money he'd managed to steal.
But he didn't know I was already ahead of him.
