Chapter 3: The Smoke Detector

The night of the “fall” began with a discovery.

Ethan had come home early, manic, his eyes bloodshot. The audit I’d secretly triggered through an anonymous tip to the IRS was starting to make waves.

“Someone is talking, Elara,” he spat, pacing the kitchen. “Someone is looking into the Lakeside Masonry accounts.”

I was stirring a pot of tea, my back to him. “Maybe there’s a reason they’re looking, Ethan. Maybe the numbers don’t add up.”

He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. “I know it’s you. You think you’re so smart. You think you can take down what I built?”

“We built it, Ethan,” I said, my voice steady. “And I’m not taking it down. I’m cleaning it up.”