Stacey’s POV
The park was quiet, cloaked in the muted gray of twilight. A few scattered figures dotted the paths, but most of the benches were empty. I sat on one near the edge of the park, my foot tapping anxiously against the ground. The chill in the air gnawed at my skin, but I barely noticed, my thoughts too preoccupied to care.
I saw Marcus before he saw me, his hoodie pulled low over his face, blending into the shadows of the trees. His shoulders were hunched, and his steps were quick and deliberate. Under one arm, he carried a folder, its edges worn as if it had been handled too many times. When he finally reached me, he glanced around quickly before sinking onto the bench beside me.
“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered, his voice low. He handed me the folder without meeting my eyes.
I took it and opened it with trembling hands. The documents inside felt heavier than paper had any right to be. Account numbers, offshore transfers, company names I’d never heard of—page after page painted a damning picture. My heart sank further with each line I read.
“Monica’s using dummy corporations,” Marcus explained, his tone clipped. “She’s moving money through them, probably to protect your dad if it all goes south. But the paper trail still leads back to you.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and suffocating. I clenched my jaw, feeling a surge of fury bubbling in my chest. They weren’t just betraying me—they were planning to ruin me.
“They’re setting me up to take the fall,” I said, my voice low but trembling with rage.
Marcus nodded grimly. “We need to act fast, Stacey. The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be to undo this.”
For a long moment, I said nothing. My eyes were fixed on the papers in front of me, but my mind raced in a thousand different directions. Anger, betrayal, fear—they all swirled together, making it hard to think straight. But one thing was clear: I couldn’t let them get away with this.
I looked up at Marcus, his face partially obscured by the hood. He was watching me closely, his usual bravado replaced by something raw and serious. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.
“Okay,” I said finally, my voice steadier than I expected. “What’s the plan?”
Marcus exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He leaned in, lowering his voice even further. “First, we need to isolate the accounts they’re using. If we can connect Monica directly to them, it’ll shift the blame off you. Second, we need to gather evidence that shows you weren’t complicit—emails, timestamps, anything that proves you weren’t involved in authorizing these transactions.”
“And what about Dad?” I asked, my voice hardening. “Do we take him down too?”
Marcus hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment. “That depends on how deep he’s in,” he admitted. “But if he’s willing to throw you under the bus, we can’t let him off the hook.”
I nodded, my grip tightening on the folder. “I’ll start going through everything tonight,” I said. “There’s got to be something in here that clears me.”
“Good,” Marcus said, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced around the park again, his movements tense and wary. “And Stacey? Be careful. They’re not playing games.”
“Neither am I,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze.
He gave me a small nod before turning and walking back into the shadows, his figure quickly swallowed by the encroaching night. I stayed on the bench for a moment longer, the folder heavy in my lap and my mind heavier still.
They thought they could use me, discard me like a pawn. But they had underestimated me.
This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.