Page 153 of Shattered Veil

I approach the Mac-Air slowly like I would a bomb.

Just opening it, I lose my breath.

There’s no passcode. Just a photo of him and Ella as wallpaper. I ignore that, for now. She’ll need my support to deal with this death, and with the loss of him in her life. The life he chose to show her and not who he really was.

My fingers go to work, and I hold my breath looking for this laptop’s IP address. But without the data we collected on Snow, I don’t know if this is the vault without tearing it apart.

Digging through folders, my heart stops at one with my name on it.

O’Rourke Ruin.

I click it and find a link to a bank account. It takes seconds for me to break into it, and I choke seeing the account growing before my eyes.

$1,000.00

$1,000.00

$1,000.00

$1,000.00

On and on.

He expected me to find this sooner. Or didn’t expect the code to spread...

The bomb replicated itself over and over, reaching fifteen megatons. It couldn’t stop. Like a virus.

Possibly his coding lost control of this one, just like the one he’d launched at Christmas.

Clicking on the profile my fingers freeze over the keyboard.

Estella Reyes

An account he opened for her. She doesn’t use Estella.

“Here, I have one of the bank accounts.” Ella comes around and gasps seeing her name and a swelling balance.

I pull her onto my lap to keep me calm. “Stay with me. Help me.”

“I don’t know what that is.” She takes a deep breath. “That’s not me.”

Days ago, Eoghan said he found an account for her. But we never imagined it would be the scene of the crime of the century.

If Wesley knew about this money, he never would let her keep it.

“It’s okay, baby.” I believe she had no idea.

She’s twisted into the fabric of my soul. Every fiberrings true and pure. Plus, for me, it’s child’s play to figure out how and when this account was opened.

Baby. Child. I cup her stomach.

“Even if I weren’t in love with you and having your babies, I’d strongly advise my father not to attempt to ruin the mafia!”

“I worried Wesley had a tripwire that upon his death, evidence would go to the FBI or something,” I say. “But he wasn’t that smart. Or tech savvy.”

“But my father was. What does this thing want? How do we stop all those withdrawals?” Ella whacks the screen. “Balor, this isyourfamily fortune.”

“I know, baby.” I press my face into the back of her shoulder, then dig further into this laptop, reverse searching by date. Looking for files updated around the time of Christmas.