The drive had been found in a safe-deposit box registered through one of Ryan’s shell corporations.
Most of it contained financial records.
But there was one folder that did not belong with the others.
It was labeled KM.
My initials.
Inside were photographs.
Documents.
Scanned letters.
Background reports.
The oldest file was dated sixteen years earlier.
A year before I met Ryan.
Vega sat across from me in the same conference room where Brooks had first explained the stolen money.
She slid a photograph across the table.
It showed my father leaving a building in Washington.
I recognized the gray coat.
Ryan was visible behind him.
Younger.
Thinner.
Watching.
“What is this?”
“Your husband worked briefly for an auditing subcontractor that reviewed early Asterion records.”
“I know he worked in auditing.”
“Did you know he audited Asterion?”
“No.”
She placed another document in front of me.
A scan of my father’s original stock certificate.
