Page 122 of Morally Corrupt

"Still working on that. But if my theory is right… and it probably is." Vlad starts in his usual self-assured manner. "We're going to find similar payments made by the rest of the people on that list."

"What would Martin be doing with this? Insurance?" I wonder aloud. It doesn't make sense.

"No… not insurance," Bianca finally speaks, and her insight brings a whole different angle to the problem. "My father was never poor, strictly speaking, but he went through a rough patch when I was a child. I remember because that was around the time he started being meaner than usual, and he would complain a lot about money. Can you check Martin's accounts from around that time?"

"You really thinkhewas the one who blackmailed these people?" The names on the list belong to politicians… people in power. How could Martin…

Shit.

I remember Martin's widespread connections, and how everyone seemed so subservient to him. Retrospectively, maybe he did have something on them?

"I only have access to public information now, but…" Vlad is focused on the screen, trying to access some data. "B's right. There was a rough patch around twenty-two years ago. He was losing more money than he was making. He was almost contemplating insolvency at that point." He shows us some financial statements that show millions in debt. "Then, he was suddenly on his feet again." He scrolls through more statements, and the date on the one that shows him on plus is… eighteen years ago.

"The timeline would match," Bianca states. "So, let's say that Martin made some bad investments, was losing money, and needed urgent capital. He got that list with people who were clearly involved in illegal things, and he blackmailed them. We can account for that four-year lag in profits because his debts were just too big to be wiped clean immediately."

"That would be the logical conclusion," Vlad agrees. "Although, I still want to run the rest of the names to confirm this. "

"I'm curious about the other six crossed names." Marcel stands to pace around the room. "And is Jimenez involved?"

"I think there is one way to find out." Bianca's face suddenly lights up, and I sigh. I'm learning her facial cues, and this can't be good. "We interrogate some of the people on the list. They should be able to give us info on Martin and Jimenez."

"That's a great idea, little goddess!" Vlad exclaims, rubbing his hands together in excitement. There's a one-second pause before Bianca gives him a blank look.

"You can't call me a little goddess anymore. He doesn't like it." She raises her hand and points her finger at me—way to throw me under the bus, B.

Vlad immediately chuckles.

"Are you jealous, Hastings?" he coos at me, and I close my eyes to maintain my calm.

"Aww, don't worry." He pats my back in a mocking gesture. "I've seen her naked, and she doesn't do anything for me."

The moment the words are out of his mouth, the hand now sporting a brace shoots out and wraps itself around Vlad's throat, almost lifting him from his chair.

His expression is still amused when he says, "No offense, B." Then, he turns his gaze from her to me, and in a deadly voice, he utters, "Take your hand off me, Hastings, or I won't play nice."

Before I can say anything, Bianca intervenes.

"Don't you dare, Vlad! He just came back from the doctor. Adrian, let him go!" She taps her foot and waits expectantly. I reluctantly let go, and Vlad is back in his seat.

"Now, make up!" Her command seems to have the same effect on Vlad as it has on me. I give him a side-eye and reluctantly mumble something.

"Great. Now that we're done with the family drama, we can focus on Bianca's suggestion." Marcel intervenes, barely able to hide his laughter.

"Yes, take your husband with you and go do your thing." Vlad massages his neck as if I'd applied Herculean force on it.

"Nope. Can't do that.He just came back from the doctor!"Bianca reiterates, almost outraged that Vlad would suggest such a thing.

"Well, I can't go. Marcel can't go. So, either you go alone or take him." He nudges his head in my direction.

I want to reply, but Bianca once again speaks, "Why can't Marcel?"

"He's not made for these things…"

"I guess you're right." She frowns at the notion before adding, "Then, I'll go alone."

"You're not going alone," I finally say.

"No, no, you're not coming," she scoffs at me as if it's the most absurd thing.

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