POV: Riley
Riley watched Hunter leave the safe house apartment from her parked car two blocks away. He moved with purpose, his shoulders tense. The confrontation had happened. She could guess the outcome.
Her own laptop was open, a secure, encrypted connection running. While Hunter played husband, she was hunting. The key was the mother. Morgan Henderson.
Public records were a tapestry of human failure. Riley wove through them with practiced ease. Credit reports (legally obtained through her PI shell company), property records, court filings.
The picture was ugly, but clear. Morgan Henderson had a history. Two foreclosures on condos she'd tried to flip. A bankruptcy seven years ago. And liens. Several liens for unpaid debts.
She narrowed the search to the last eighteen months. Bingo. A civil lawsuit filed in county court. The Apex Grand Casino vs. Morgan S. Henderson. For non-payment of a marker—a casino loan—totaling $125,000. The case was settled out of court.
Riley tracked the settlement. The debt had been transferred. Not to a collection agency. To a private holding company. She followed the corporate trail, peeling back layers of shell companies. It was a Russian nesting doll of financial obfuscation.
Finally, she hit a wall. A company called "Valor Holdings." It was clean, quiet, and registered in Delaware. But the registered agent's name made her lean forward.
Sterling, Valor, & Pike, LLC.
Sterling.
The hair on her arms stood up. It wasn't just a name on a loan. It was the architecture of the trap. The casino was probably owned by Sterling interests. They'd loaned Morgan the money, let her drown, then called in the debt. But they didn't want money.
They wanted leverage.
She cross-referenced. Julian Sterling was listed as a managing partner of Valor Holdings. It was his company. His trap.
She pulled up Morgan's call records from the last month (another legally dubious but accessible dataset). Dozens of calls to a number registered to a "J. Sterling." The calls got longer, more frequent, in the week leading up to the home invasion.
Then, she found the kicker. A text message log from a carrier compromise (she wouldn't admit how she got it). Two days before the attack, a text from Morgan's phone to J. Sterling's number.
Morgan: I did what you asked. The drawing. It's done. Now leave us alone.
Sterling: Confirmation received. The matter will be concluded. Your debt will be considered paid in full.
Riley stopped breathing for a second. There it is. The direct link. Morgan gave them the map. Sterling promised to clear her debt. The "matter" was Hunter.
This was the evidence. This was the "why." Morgan traded her son-in-law's life for her freedom.
But why did Sterling want Hunter dead? That was the missing piece. The real reason. Morgan's debt was just the tool.
She packaged the data—the lawsuit, the corporate trail, the call logs, the damning text. She needed to show Hunter. He thought this was about his wife's betrayal and a gambling debt. He needed to understand it was about him. He was the target. The debt was just the bullet.
She sent a secure message to Hunter's burner phone.
<< We need to talk. I found "M." And I found who owns her. It's worse than money. Your location? >>
The reply came a minute later.
>> Park. Bench by the river. 30 minutes. >>
Riley closed her laptop. She looked at the apartment building where Tessa was. A woman drowning in her mother's lies, used as a weapon against her own husband. She almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
But sentiment got people killed. Facts kept them alive. She had the facts now. It was time to share them with the man who had a right to burn the whole thing down.
Riley uncovers conclusive proof that Morgan traded Hunter's life to Julian Sterling to clear her casino debt, revealing the attack was a targeted contract, not a random robbery.