Chapter 4 - The Digital Paper Trail
I transferred the server diagnostic files from the old iPad to my phone using a local Bluetooth bridge, then encrypted the archive before emailing it directly to Evan Vance’s personal secure legal portal.
As the progress bar ticked toward one hundred percent, the front door downstairs slammed open.
“Erin!” Ryan’s voice boomed up the stairwell, stripped of all its previous gentle domestic veneer. It was cold, sharp, and demanding. “Open this door right now!”
I quickly handed the iPad to Paige, who was watching me with wide, terrified eyes. “Hide this under your mattress, sweetie. Don't let anyone into your room. If anyone asks, you’ve been doing your homework.”
Paige tucked the tablet inside her backpack, zipped it shut, and slipped out just as heavy, rapid footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The wood of the bedroom door groaned under the force of Ryan’s fist. “I know you’re in there, Erin. Unlock this door or I’m taking the hinges off.”
I stood up, smoothing down my yoga pants and oversized t-shirt, taking a slow, deep breath to steady my pulse. I walked over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open with a deliberate, calm slowness.
Ryan stood in the doorway, his face flushed red, his chest heaving. His mother stood a few steps behind him, peering over his shoulder like a vulture waiting for a carcass.
“What do you want, Ryan?” I asked, keeping my voice chillingly level.
“Don't play games with me,” he snarled, stepping into the room and invading my personal space. “Evan Vance just called me. He said you contacted him claiming the restructuring docs were forged.”
“Because they were forged, Ryan.”
“You’re out of your mind!” He threw his hands up in exasperation, looking back at Marlene as if to say, See? I told you. “Evan is drafting the emergency paperwork to finalize the Apex Global acquisition by noon tomorrow. If you interfere with this sale, you’ll ruin us. Do you have any idea how much debt we’re in?”
There it was. The real truth, bleeding out through the cracks of his manufactured confidence.
“Debt?” I stared at him. “What debt? Little Fox & Fern has been debt-free for four years. We have two hundred thousand dollars in liquid reserves—”
“Had two hundred thousand,” Ryan corrected, his eyes flashing with a desperate, frantic panic. “I leveraged the company accounts last month to cover some bad crypto investments and bridge loans. If Apex doesn't buy us out, the bank is going to foreclose on the commercial warehouse by Friday.”
I stared at my husband, the man I had built a home with, realizing I was looking at a total stranger—a gambling addict and a coward who had risked our children’s future on speculative garbage and was now trying to throw his postpartum wife under the bus to cover his tracks.
“You gambled the company’s reserves,” I said slowly, the words feeling heavy and unreal on my tongue. “You risked everything we built.”
“I was trying to multiply it!” he yelled, losing control, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me slightly. “For our family! For Paige and the new baby! But you wouldn't understand—you’ve always treated the business like your precious little baby instead of a commercial asset!”
Marlene stepped forward, her face twisted into a mask of pure malice. “She’s hysterical, Ryan. Look at her. She’s completely unhinged. Call Dr. Higgins back and have her committed for a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold. It’s the only way to stop her from tanking the deal.”
May you like
Ryan looked at me, hesitation flickering in his eyes for a split second before his greed and fear hardened his expression once more. He pulled out his phone.
“I’m sorry, Erin,” he whispered, though there was no remorse in his voice—only cold calculation. “You leave me no choice.”
