Page 143 of Light My Fire Three Times
“Olivia,” she snaps sharply. “I’ve got something. A lot of something.”
I stand up straighter, bracing myself for the storm.
“What is it?” I ask, betraying the hope I’m trying to hide. “What did you find?”
“I’ve got everything, Liv.” There’s a pause, the kind that feels like a drum roll building up to something explosive. “I’ve been digging into Richard Stokes for the past few days. I’ve uncovered everything: his shady business practices, embezzlement, and cover-ups. And guess what? He’s been siphoning off money from the company for years. It’s all him. Not you.”
A rush of relief floods me, so strong I almost have to sit down.
It’s him.
It’s really him.
I didn’t steal anything, and now I can prove it. I’m not guilty. “Wait, so you’re sure? He’s the one who’s been embezzling all this time?”
“Yes, Olivia. It’s him. It’s always been him.” She sounds almost… proud. “I've got all the evidence: Bank records, financial statements, memos. I’ve pieced it together. He’s the one who’s been running the scam. He’s been using you as his scapegoat to cover his tracks. Ever since you left the company, you were the one he chose to blame.”
I let the words sink in. I feel like I’ve just shed about a hundred pounds, but at the same time, the enormity of what she’s saying is catching up to me.
Richard Stokes is a criminal, and he’s been using me as a pawn. The sheer audacity of it makes my stomach churn.
“So, what now? What do we do with this?” I ask, my mind racing.
“I’m sending you the full file, everything I’ve got. You need to see it for yourself. Once you do, we go public with it. I’ve got some legal contacts lined up to help make sure it sticks, but once it’s out there, there’s no going back for him.”
I can feel the faintest smile tug at my lips, my shoulders loosening. “This is really happening, huh? He’s going down.”
“Hell yeah. You deserve to have this over with, Liv,” she says firmly. “I’m just glad I could help. But brace yourself… once we go public, things are going to get messy.”
“Bring it on,” I reply without thinking. The mess doesn’t even faze me anymore. Not after everything I’ve been through. “Thank you, Sloane. Seriously.”
“I’m just doing my job,” she says, as if it’s no big deal. “But I’m glad I could take this weight off your shoulders. I’ll send youeverything now. You can start going through it, and we’ll figure out the next step.”
I inhale a deep breath. The air just tastes different now. “I’ll go through it right away. I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“You’ve got this,” Sloane says. “Talk soon.”
The line clicks off, and I’m left standing there, phone in hand, staring at nothing in particular. The adrenaline’s still coursing through my veins, but there’s something else bubbling up, too. Hope. Real hope.
My fingers fumble as I open my email, and sure enough, there it is—a massive attachment from Sloane.
My eyes fly over the documents, everything laid out in black and white. Bank transfers, falsified invoices, and financial reports with Richard’s name all over them. It’s undeniable. Richard’s been embezzling for years, and I was his scapegoat.
I don’t even know how long I stand there, scrolling through everything, absorbing each detail. I try to wrap my mind around how much he’s gotten away with, how much he’s stolen from people who trusted him. But the deeper I go, the worse it gets.
The first thing I notice is a set of transfers to unlisted offshore accounts, totaling in the millions.
These aren’t small, one-time payouts. They’re regular, ongoing siphoning—evidence of systematic fraud. I can feel my stomach turning as I read through the account numbers. They match Richard’s personal aliases. Names he’s used in business dealings to keep everything clean. And the offshore accounts? Registered under fake businesses that don’t exist.
But it gets worse.
A memo dated last year catches my eye, detailing how Richard “managed” the company’s books to conceal fraudulent losses. Losses that never even existed.
In other words, he created fake debts within the company to conceal the actual theft. That’s when I realize how far back thisgoes. Richard’s been staging fake losses for almost five years, playing a game of smoke and mirrors. But the worst part? He was planning to frame someone for the entire thing.
And he chose me.
There's a note buried at the bottom of an expense report that gives me chills: Olivia Quinn should be the fall guy. She’s expendable. If anyone investigates this, it’ll be on her.
