Chapter 3 - The Bribe—The Detective—The Frame-Up

My father walked out onto the balcony, slipped down the fire escape, and vanished into the Chicago night.

Marcus immediately picked up the landline on the mahogany desk and dialed 911, putting on a frantic, terrified voice.

“Police! My wife just locked herself in the study and stole millions from our family accounts! Please hurry!”

He slammed the phone down and grinned at me. “Don't bother running, Jules. The country club security is already waiting outside the door.”

Ten minutes later, the heavy oak doors burst open. Local police poured into the room, led by Detective Russo, a seasoned Chicago cop with a reputation for closing cases quickly.

“Detective Russo,” Marcus said, playing the devastated groom. “She accessed the terminal. The money is gone.”

Russo walked over to the desk, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and looked at my laptop screen. He didn't look surprised. He looked bored.

“Julianne Mercer,” Russo grunted, pulling heavy steel handcuffs from his belt. “You’re under arrest for grand larceny and wire fraud. Turn around.”

“Detective, check the IP logs!” I pleaded, keeping my hands visible. “My father was just in here! He’s alive! He transferred the money, and Marcus is working with him!”

Russo sighed, shaking his head. “Your father is Thomas Vance. He died six months ago. I was the one who signed the coroner's report on his dental records.”

My breath hitched. My father had bought the dental records.

As Russo clamped the cold steel around my wrists, Marcus walked over.

“Make sure you get her out the back door, Detective,” Marcus said smoothly. “My mother has suffered enough embarrassment tonight.”

Russo nodded respectfully. As he turned his body, his jacket fell open slightly. Tucked inside his breast pocket was a thick, pristine envelope bearing the crest of the Mercer family estate.

Russo wasn't investigating a crime. He was completing a transaction.

“You’re on their payroll,” I whispered.

“Watch your head on the doorframe,” Russo said, shoving me roughly out of the study.

As I was dragged down the back stairwell toward the squad cars, I realized they thought I was a helpless suburban girl. But they made one massive mistake.

They forgot that as a forensic accountant, I never logged into a hostile network without setting a mirror backup on my phone.

The next chapters are on the left side of your screen.

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