Chapter 10: What the Drive Contained
Marcus came to the mansion the following morning with a colleague named Priya, who specialized in financial fraud, and a banker's box of printed documents.
We sat at the long dining table — Marcus at one end, Priya beside him, my mother in the kitchen with Donovan and the door pulled mostly closed.
I had asked her to stay close but not in the room.
She understood.
Marcus opened the box.
"The USB drive Renata provided," he said, "contains three years of records.
Call logs from the secondary phone account registered to Caden Merritt-Shaw.
Bank transfer records tied to the MSR Consulting Group account.
And correspondence." He paused.
"Significant correspondence."
"Between Caden and who?" I asked.
"Primarily between Caden and his mother, Diane Merritt." Marcus slid a printed page across the table.
"This is from four years ago.
Three months after Donovan was born."
I read it.
It was an email.
Caden to Diane.
The subject line was blank.
*She doesn't look at the accounts.
She trusts everything I tell her.
If we move carefully, we can have enough to cover the Scottsdale property debt and the back taxes within eighteen months.
She won't notice until it's too late, and by then we'll have what we need.*
I set the page down.
"How much?" I asked.
Priya answered.
"Based on what we can document so far — transfers from joint accounts you weren't actively monitoring, inflated household expense claims, and two business invoices from your company that were redirected — approximately two hundred and thirty thousand dollars over four years."
The number sat on the table between us like something physical.
"He was doing to my company what he did to his former employer," I said.
"Yes," Priya said.
"But on a larger scale.
And with longer access."
"Can it be recovered?"
"Most of it.
The Scottsdale property has equity.
There are also personal accounts in Caden's name that can be attached as part of a civil claim." She folded her hands.
"The more significant question is whether you want to pursue criminal charges alongside the civil action."
I looked at Marcus.
"What's your read?" I asked.
"The former employer in Chandler has already reopened their case," he said.
"They're filing separately.
Which means Caden is facing two financial fraud investigations simultaneously, regardless of what you decide." He paused.
"If you add the bigamy finding, the picture becomes considerably more serious for him."
"Bigamy is a criminal matter," I said.
"In Arizona, yes.
Class four felony."
I thought about Donovan upstairs.
His laugh.
His small hand around a toy.
"File everything," I said.
"Civil and criminal.
All of it."
Marcus nodded once.
He didn't look surprised.
"There's one more thing," he said.
He slid a second page across.
"Renata.
She's prepared to give a formal deposition.
She's been sitting on this for three years because she had no standing to come forward on her own.
Your case gives her standing."
"Make sure she's protected," I said.
"Whatever she needs."
"Already arranged." Marcus began gathering the pages.
"Caden's attorney contacted my office this morning.
He's looking to negotiate."
"What does he want?"
"Reduced civil liability in exchange for a full financial disclosure and cooperation with the Chandler investigation."
"And Sasha?"
"She's filed her own complaint in California.
Separately.
She's not interested in negotiating."
Good, I thought.
Neither am I.
Priya closed her folder.
"Taylor, I want to say something that isn't strictly legal advice."
I looked at her.
"In twenty years of financial fraud work, I have rarely seen someone this prepared.
The property in your name only.
The frozen accounts.
The community manager protocol." She paused.
"You were ready for this."
"Not for all of it," I said honestly.
"I didn't know about Sasha.
I didn't know about the name."
"But you knew enough," she said.
"You protected yourself before you knew exactly what you were protecting yourself from."
I thought about the day I bought the mansion.
Three years ago.
Donovan had been one year old.
I had been sitting in an attorney's office signing the deed, and when the attorney asked why I wanted it solely in my name, I hadn't been able to explain it precisely.
I had just known.
May you like
"Sometimes," my mother said from the kitchen doorway — she had come back without any of us noticing — "a woman knows things before she has the words for them."
Nobody disagreed with her.
