Chapter 39 Thief
[Nyx]
The door clicked shut behind Lysander, and I immediately turned my attention to the stack of financial records spread across my desk. No distractions now. I needed every bit of the analytical training Westmore Economics had drilled into me for three years.
I focused on NorthStar's corporate structure first, pulling up database after database. Something about this company had felt off from the beginning, and my instincts hadn't failed me yet.
"Come on," I muttered, typing faster as I cross-referenced business registrations. "Show me who you really are."
Three hours later, I had my answer. NorthStar Supply Co. existed on paper only—no physical headquarters, no employees beyond the bare minimum required for registration. Every contact method led to the same email domain: hydeglobalholdings.com.
My fingers froze over the keyboard.
Hyde.
Isla's maiden name.
Well, well. Someone's been busy, Sylva growled in my mind.
My eyes narrowed as the first piece clicked into place. This wasn't just about overpriced materials. This was family business—Isla's family business.
By noon, I'd switched tactics. I might have been the family disappointment, but I hadn't wasted all my time at Westmore. Professor Harmon's Advanced Financial Tracking course had taught us techniques that skirted the edges of legality. I never thought I'd use them to investigate my own family.
The NorthStar bank accounts opened before me like a map of betrayal. Each payment from Eclipse triggered an immediate transfer—60% of funds redirected to offshore accounts within hours. Following the money trail led to a name that confirmed my suspicions: Sebastian Hyde.
I pulled up his social media profile, and the face that stared back was unmistakable—Isla's brother who occasionally appeared at family gatherings, always schmoozing with investors, always watching me with calculated eyes.
"This fucking family..." I whispered, my hands trembling slightly with rage before I forced myself back into professional detachment.
I needed proof—concrete, undeniable evidence that would convince even my father. I dug deeper, following digital breadcrumbs through encrypted channels until I found it: a protected email exchange between Raymond and Isla.
"Per your instructions, we'll continue procuring materials exclusively through NorthStar," Raymond had written. "The board remains unaware of the price discrepancy."
I cracked the attached file to find detailed records of fund transfers, complete with Isla's digital signature on directive documents. The total amount siphoned over three years: $36.8 million.
My lungs constricted as the number glared back at me from the screen. I pushed away from the desk and paced the study, my mind racing.
Father's words from months ago suddenly made horrible sense: Eclipse is facing financial difficulties... we may need to sell...
"She's deliberately bleeding the company," I said aloud, the realization hitting me like ice water. "Creating a crisis so she can buy it at a fraction of its value."
My mother's legacy—the company she'd built from nothing—being systematically pillaged by the woman who had replaced her.
My phone vibrated. Lysander was requesting a video call. I took a deep breath, composed my face, and accepted.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound normal despite the storm raging inside me. "How did it go with Timothy?"
"He's here with me now," Lysander replied, turning the camera to include a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses. "He's completed the analysis."
Timothy nodded professionally. "Ms. Verdant, I've examined the samples thoroughly. These materials are not only lacking the 'premium quality' that justified their pricing, but certain batches contain harmful impurities. They're worth perhaps a third of what Eclipse has been paying."
I nodded, unsurprised but grateful for the confirmation. "That aligns with what I've found. NorthStar is a shell company controlled by Isla's brother. They've been systematically draining Eclipse for years—nearly $37 million so far."
Timothy's eyebrows shot up. "That's... remarkably thorough investigation work. Your financial tracking methods are impressive."
I shared my screen, walking them through the evidence I'd compiled. Timothy asked insightful questions, offering suggestions for strengthening the case. Throughout our exchange, Lysander remained silent, his expression growing increasingly grim.
"I'll email you the complete written report," Timothy promised before signing off. "Your financial analysis paired with my quality assessment creates an airtight case."
"Thank you, Timothy," I said warmly. "Your expertise has been invaluable."
After the call ended, Lysander's face filled my screen, his jaw tight. "Seems like you and Timothy got along well."
I was still processing our discoveries, barely registering his odd tone. "Timothy's analysis was brilliant! It perfectly confirms what the financial trail shows."
"Yes, Timothy is quite professional," Lysander replied flatly.
I finally noticed his expression. "What's wrong? You look strange."
He glanced away. "Nothing. Just noticed how impressed you were with Timothy."
I stared at him for a moment before understanding dawned. Was he... jealous? Of Timothy? A slow smile curved my lips.
Instead of reassuring him immediately, I leaned closer to the camera, letting my voice drop to something softer, more intimate. "Jealous, Lysander? That's adorable." I traced my finger along the edge of my laptop screen, as if I could touch him through it. "You know, I don't remember Timothy being the one who pinned me against the warehouse wall, protecting me from those guards. I don't remember his scent driving my wolf wild, or the way his touch makes me forget how to breathe."
Lysander's eyes darkened instantly, his pupils dilating as his amber gaze fixed on me with predatory intensity. "Nyx—"
"And I certainly don't remember," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper, "waking up in Timothy's arms this morning, feeling things I've never felt before."
His jaw clenched, and I could see the gold beginning to bleed into his irises—his wolf rising to the surface. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess."
"Am I?" I tilted my head, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. "Maybe I just want to see what happens when I push you a little too far."