“No.”
“That’s what Bell said.”
“She emailed me yesterday.”
Liam went still.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What address?”
I recited it from memory.
He took out his phone and typed.
Then he looked at me.
“Bell says that’s not a Halden domain.”
I stared at him.
“Of course it is.”
“He says their addresses end in haldenfa.com.”
“I know.”
“The address you gave me ends in halden-advisory.com.”
The difference sat between us.
Small.
Almost laughably small.
A hyphen.
A word.
The kind of difference people missed every day.
The kind of difference I was paid not to miss.
“No,” I whispered.
“Maya.”
“No.”
I could see the emails in my mind.
The logo.
Claire’s signature.
The encryption notice.
The document portal.
My own password manager had autofilled the credentials.
“I spoke to her on the phone.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Was it Claire?”
“Of course it was.”
“Did you see her?”
My mouth went dry.
Not for six weeks.
The audit had begun with in-person meetings at a quiet office downtown.
Claire Donnelly, gray-haired, precise, allergic to vague answers.
Then she had moved our meetings online.
Security, she said.
Too many irregularities.
After that, audio calls only.
Then encrypted email.
“I know her voice,” I said.
Liam’s expression was careful.
“You were dealing with a firm that handles confidential investigations. Would changing an email domain ever be normal?”
“No.”
“Would you miss it?”
The question hurt more than I expected.
“No.”
But I had.
I thought of the night Ethan saw the email.
We have concerns regarding the Northline-linked disbursements and recommend immediate preservation of records.
I had assumed he was reacting to the audit.
What if he had been reacting to something else?
“Give me your phone,” I said.
“Maya—”
“Please.”
He handed it over.
My hands shook as I opened the browser.
I typed the portal address from memory.
The page loaded.
Halden’s blue-and-silver logo appeared.
Client Login.
I knew every pixel of that page.
I had used it for months.
Liam watched me.
“What are you looking for?”
I didn’t answer.
I deleted one word from the web address.
Then the hyphen.
A different site appeared.
Halden Forensic Advisory.
Same logo.
Almost the same page.
Almost.
The spacing was slightly different.
The legal notice at the bottom used a smaller font.
I felt cold.
“No.”
Liam leaned nearer.
“What?”
“The portal.”
“What about it?”
“I’ve been uploading records to the wrong portal.”
For once, my brother had no response.
I stared at the screen.
Six months of bank statements.
Internal authorization logs.
Copies of contracts.
Vendor lists.
Notes.
My questions.
My theories.
Everything I suspected.
Everything I planned to review next.
I had thought I was secretly investigating Ethan.
But someone had been reading over my shoulder the entire time.
Liam took the phone from my hand.
“Maya, listen to me. We call Ruiz. Right now.”
I barely heard him.
The email.
Yesterday’s email.
Preserve records.
The message Ethan saw.
The message that set him off.
Had it been written to warn me?
Or to make sure Ethan discovered the audit?
A thought moved quietly into place.
“Liam.”
He was already reaching for the call button.
“Wait.”
“No.”
“Just wait.”
He looked at me.
I forced myself to slow down.
To separate fear from fact.
“What exactly did Aaron Bell say about Claire?”
“That she resigned three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t discuss personnel matters.”
“Did you tell him my name?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Liam’s expression shifted.
“He put me on hold.”
“How long?”
“A few minutes.”
“Then what?”
“He asked me to repeat your name.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“And?”
“He said he needed to speak with Halden’s legal counsel before discussing anything else.”
I stared at him.
“That isn’t normal.”
“I gathered that.”
“No, Liam. You don’t understand.”
I struggled to sit a little straighter.
This time, he helped adjust the bed rather than arguing.
“An investigative firm doesn’t panic because a client’s brother calls an emergency line. Not if the client simply fell for a fake portal.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Maya.”
“Claire didn’t leave three weeks ago.”
“Bell said—”
“She emailed me from the real Halden address twenty-four days ago.”
Liam stopped.
“Can you prove that?”
“The messages are on the drive I gave you.”
Silence.
I watched understanding arrive.
Twenty-four days.
Claire had communicated with me from the legitimate firm.
Three days later, according to Aaron Bell, she resigned.
Then a nearly identical email domain began contacting me.
A fake portal received my records.
Someone had known exactly how Halden communicated.
Exactly what my investigation involved.
Exactly which case manager I trusted.
This was not a random phishing scam.
“Call Ruiz,” I said.
Liam was already doing it.
Detective Ruiz returned less than twenty minutes later.
This time, she brought another officer with her—a quiet man named Patel who carried an evidence bag.
Liam gave them the drive.
Ruiz listened while I explained the domains.
She asked me to repeat the timeline twice.
She did not look amazed.
That reassured me.
People who worked with facts rarely had time for dramatic reactions.
“Could your husband have known which firm you hired?” she asked.
“I never told him.”
“Could he have seen an invoice?”
“I paid through a separate account.”
“Mail?”
“Electronic only.”
“Phone records?”
“Possibly. But Halden’s number wouldn’t identify the case.”
“What about your computer?”
“Password protected.”
“Did your husband know the password?”
“No.”
I paused.
“At least, I don’t think so.”
Ruiz nodded.
“Don’t change any passwords yet.”
I blinked.
“Why?”
“If devices or accounts were compromised, changes can alter what investigators are able to observe. We’ll coordinate next steps.”
My instinct rebelled.
Every account felt exposed.
Every document contaminated.
But she was right.
Preserve first.
Act second.
I nodded.
“There’s something else,” I said.
I told her about Claire.
The legitimate email.
The resignation.
The fake domain.
Ruiz wrote it down.
“Would Ms. Donnelly know about your controlling interest in Apex?”
“Yes.”
“Would she know you planned to leave your husband?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
Liam looked at me.
“You told her?”
“She was auditing a company whose chief executive lived with me. I had to explain why access was limited.”
“You trusted her.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
Ruiz closed her notebook.
“We’ll need to speak with her.”
A tiny unease moved through me.
“Bell has her contact information.”
“We’ll handle that.”
She stood.
“I want you to get some rest.
