Chapter 14 - The Cayman ConnectionMarcus didn't take three days; he took three hours.
By midnight, an encrypted file pinged my laptop. Inside were two documents: the actual, unredacted autopsy report for Arthur Vance—which revealed a toxicology screening completely inconsistent with a natural cardiac arrest—and a passenger manifest for a Gulfstream G650 flying from Midway to Grand Cayman on the evening of October 14, 2024.
Passenger name: Arthur V. Sterling.
No—not Sterling. Arthur V. Sinclair.
He had taken Eleanor’s maiden name, married it to his own first initial, and vanished into an offshore tax haven with four million dollars skimmed directly from the foundation’s illegal adoption escrow accounts.
“He didn't just steal my son,” I said, staring at the screen, the rage building in my chest like compressed steam. “He stole a fortune from the family trust, faked his own death, and left my mother to take the fall for the entire criminal enterprise.”
Samantha stood beside me, her hand resting firmly on my shoulder. She didn't look angry; she looked cold, calculating, and entirely lethal—the brilliant accountant she had been before my family tried to erase her existence.
“She deserves to be in prison,” Samantha said softly, referring to Margaret. “She ruined our lives. But she didn't act alone, and she shouldn't be the only one carrying the weight while the mastermind sits on a beach in the Caribbean.”
“What do you propose we do?” I looked up at her.
May you like
Samantha smiled—a small, humorless curve of her lips that reminded me why I had fallen in love with her a decade ago.
“We don't call the police, Ethan. The international extradition process takes months, and lawyers are expensive.” She reached over and tapped the screen on Arthur’s offshore corporate registration shell. “Instead, we freeze his primary holding account through an emergency injunction filed under the victims' restitution act. And then... we go pay your uncle a visit.”
