Chapter 2
The sudden silence in the dining room felt heavier than the stack of collection notices currently burying the breakfast plates. David lowered his hands slowly from his face, his chest still heaving beneath the tight purple polo shirt as he glared down at Maya. The wheeled black suitcase by her feet rattled slightly as she shifted her weight, her pink shoes pressing firmly into the hardwood floor. Clara pulled her purple cardigan tighter around her shoulders, looking as though the gravity of the room had suddenly doubled. Arthur stood frozen, his hand still pointing at the table, though his finger began to tremble from something other than pure anger.
“What are you talking about?” David demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register that lacked its previous theatrical fury. “Those are your logins on the statements. Your name is on the digital signature records for every single wire transfer executed over the last six months.”
Maya shook her head, her light brown hair swaying with the sharp motion. She unlocked her smartphone again, holding the glowing screen out so David and Arthur could see the raw data streams she had spent the entire previous night compiling.
“IP addresses don't lie, David,” Maya said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring in her ears. “Someone cloned my administrative credentials back in November. They routed the capital through three separate shell companies registered in Delaware before funneled it offshore. I only found out because the bank's automated fraud detection algorithm finally flagged an anomalous micro-transaction at three o'clock this morning.”
Arthur lowered his hand completely, his face draining of what little color it held. He looked at the bills scattered next to the cold breakfast food, then up at his daughter.
“Offshore?” Arthur whispered, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “That was your mother's medical fund. That was the retirement reserve we built over forty years of working twelve-hour shifts at the mill.”
“I know what it was, Dad,” Maya said, her eyes welling with restrained tears that she fiercely refused to let fall. She took a step forward, ignoring David’s protective scowl. “And that is why I packed my bag. Because the audit trail shows the security breach originated from an internal network connection.”
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David scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Internal? There's only four of us living in this house, Maya. Are you accusing one of us of stealing our entire family's livelihood?”
Maya didn't answer immediately. Instead, she swiped once on her phone, turning the screen around to reveal a high-resolution security still taken from the smart home server in the hallway. The timestamp read 2:14 AM. The image showed a figure standing in the dark corridor, illuminated only by the cold blue light of a laptop screen, wearing a familiar jacket.
