Page 50 of Innocent Bratva Twins

I carry all of the folders I gathered into the boardroom next to our offices. Once they are spread out, I head back and grab the rest. I need the extra table space to organize things nicely.

I open my laptop, log on, and dive in.

An hour rolls by and I’m keeping a steady pace.

At seven, I see some movement outside the boardroom because other people are starting to arrive early, but not as early as I was.

At exactly forty-three minutes past seven, my heart stutters.

“What is that?” I whisper, pressing my finger against the document and squinting at the transaction. “That doesn’t make sense.”

I look at my laptop, scrolling down the spreadsheet.

“Okay, that’s definitely not right.”

Dragging the laptop right in front of me, I push the paperwork aside to run a more intensive search through the program.

The transaction I’ve stumbled across is small—insignificant, actually. I could easily ignore it, but it shouldn’t be there at all, and I don’t like that. I like things to line up perfectly at the end.

I type in one keyword and nothing comes up. I type in another keyword, and nothing comes up.

“What are you for?” I say out loud.

It’s not my job to check the entire month of transactions. I only deal with a portion of this document, usually. But now my curiosity has spiked, and I can’t let it go.

I need to know what this is about.

I bolt out of the boardroom into the filing cabinet down the hall, one that I never have reason to get into.

I grab the last two months of paperwork and hurry back to the desk. Both of these months have been signed off and completed.

I stand up, leaning over the paperwork in the now folders, my eyes tracing over the endless lists of transactions, searching for anything that looks the same as the one I found. And sure enough, there it is. A couple of minuscule amounts. Money moved around. Shifted and then transferred out of the account.

“Where to?” I mumble.

Sighing, my brows knitted, I sit back down at the laptop.

I need to know what to search for to see if there are any more of these little amounts.

I grab the folder and look at the full reference number for one of the transactions.

“Seven, three, dash, three—” I type into the search bar, and suddenly my screen is flooded with transactions.

All small.

All with the same reference code at the end.

All insignificant on their own, and easy to skip over, but together, the amount is growing quickly. The longer the program runs, the longer the list gets—and the higher the total gets with it.

I sit back in my chair with my jaw dropping while I’m watching the program tally up the transactions over the past few months.

It comes to a stop.

Disbelief and panic surge inside me.

This is one hundred percent not right.

This is…

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