Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the LedgerEvelyn stared at the manila folder as if it were a venomous snake. The numbers Noah cited—the Tribeca loft, the medical debt—were real. Too real. But they didn't belong to the criminal enterprise Noah was implying.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping an octave as she fought to regain control. She crossed her arms, glaring down at the security chief. “If your boss spent five minutes looking at the source of those funds instead of just the destination, he’d know I inherited the loft from my eccentric uncle, and the medical debt was paid off by a legal settlement from a wrongful death lawsuit involving my father’s medical malpractice case five years ago.”
Noah didn't blink. He opened the folder, flipping past financial statements to reveal a glossy photograph.
It was a picture of Evelyn walking out of a nondescript warehouse in Queens three nights ago, handing a heavy velvet pouch to a man with a scarred cheek and heavy Russian tattoos.
Evelyn’s breath hitched. The color drained entirely from her face.
“Care to explain why a respectable jewelry appraiser is meeting associates of the Bratva at midnight in an industrial district?” Noah asked, his tone dropping into a lethal, quiet register. “Mr. Mercer doesn't like surprises. And he certainly doesn't like people operating in his city without his permission.”
“That wasn't… that’s not what you think,” Evelyn stammered, her composure shattering.
“Then enlighten me. Because right now, you look like a woman who just signed her own death warrant.”
Before Evelyn could formulate a lie—or a desperate truth—the frosted glass door of her office swung open again.
A shadow fell across the room.
Adrian Mercer stepped inside, smelling faintly of rain, expensive tobacco, and cedar. He looked out of place among the antique mahogany and dust-covered relics of the auction house, yet he commanded the space as if he owned the building. Which, given his portfolio, he probably did.
“Leave us, Noah,” Adrian commanded without taking his eyes off Evelyn.
Noah hesitated, glaring at Evelyn one last time before standing up. “Boss, she’s hiding something big. We should take her in.”
“I said, leave us.”
Noah swallowed his objection, grabbed the folder, and stepped outside, pulling the glass door shut behind him.
May you like
Adrian walked slowly toward Evelyn’s desk. He picked up the seed-pearl necklace she had been appraising, letting the delicate strands slip through his long fingers.
“You’re sweating, Ms. Hart,” Adrian noted softly. “And it’s not because of the summer heat.”
