Chapter 4 - The Paper Trail
The guests were rapidly dispersing, slipping away toward their luxury sedans in uncomfortable silence as the spectacle turned from party entertainment into a psychological crime scene.
Estelle scrambled to her feet, wiping mud off her cream suit, her mascara bleeding down her cheeks. "You think you can ruin us, Grace? My lawyers will tear you apart! This estate belongs to me! Arthur left everything to me in his final will!"
"Your third modified will," I corrected, pulling a small silver flash drive from my cardigan pocket. "The one signed forty-eight hours before Dad died, witnessed by a notary who was paid twenty thousand dollars from your private account in Grand Cayman."
Estelle froze. All the color drained from her face, leaving her skin a ghastly gray beneath her designer makeup.
"I spent the last six months going through Dad's private servers," I said, taking two slow steps toward her. "I found the digital footprints left when you accessed his personal accounts while he was heavy on hospice medication. You altered the trust beneficiaries, transferred twelve million dollars out of his liquid portfolios into Vance Defense Dynamics, and forged his power of attorney."
Coleman groaned from the grass, holding his arm. "Mom... call the police... she broke my arm..."
"Shut up, Coleman!" Estelle screamed, her voice cracking with pure desperation. She glared at me with wild, bloodshot eyes. "You have no proof! A court won't accept files from a broke, unstable woman who spent a decade hiding in the woods!"
"A court won't need to," I replied smoothly. "Because the Office of the Inspector General, the IRS Criminal Investigation Division, and the FBI Financial Crimes Unit already have the originals. They've been monitoring Vance Defense Dynamics for six weeks."
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I looked down at the mud-caked MMA gloves sitting near my sneakers. I hooked my toe under one and kicked it effortlessly through the open air, catching it cleanly in my left hand.
"You told my daughter I was a useless mother, Coleman," I said, tossing the heavy leather glove onto Estelle's ruined suit. "Let's see how useful your mother is when the federal marshals pull up the driveway."
