Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.

Its beneficial ownership trail led through another entity.

I could not prove ownership on my own, but I could read how the amounts moved.

Priya and I spread the permitted documents across her kitchen table while she reviewed them with the financial investigator.

There were four transfers from a Julian-controlled account, four incoming credits at Northstar, and four payments to the annex, each paired with a reference number.

“My reference number,” I said when I saw the final column.