Chapter 37 In Her Maiden Name

Chapter 37 In Her Maiden Name
Ivy

"We find out what he did to my mother's money and we find out what he wants with you." Lucian's voice was hard. It made a shiver go through me.

"Okay," I said, my own voice a bit shaky. "Where do we even start? He has so many papers."

A heavy silence sat between us as Lucian stared at the ledgers Alistair had given me.

"We start with everything. Every single piece of paper, every little note."He gestured to the big table in his study, covered in maps and books. "Clear this. We're setting up our war room."

A sudden urge made me started shifting things around. My hands were still a bit shaky from finding that report about Zara. 

"You think he really watches every corner of this house?" That slipped out as I dropped some worn magazines onto the ground.

Lucian stopped, looking at the door, then the window. "I wouldn't put it past him. He's always been… calculating. But we're careful. We'll work here. Anyone comes, we hide it all. Fast." He pointed to a big, old chest near the fireplace. "That's our emergency stash. Everything goes in there if someone knocks."

"Just like a hidden hideout," I said softly. A bit childish, sure... yet it gave us purpose. 

Hours seemed to pass while we worked at the table. Not once did Lucian look up from those ledgers marked with a lily. He was focused, his jaw tight. I took the other boxes of documents... filled with older things, unorganised. Among them: faded photographs, handwritten notes, tax forms bundled with rubber bands.

"What should we even be trying to find?" I asked, after some time, breaking the silence. My vision swam through rows of small figures on the bank paper.  

Lucian grunted, not looking up. "Anything that doesn't add up. Anything out of place. My mother's money was supposed to be mine. He's been moving it for years, hiding things. But also, anything about Zara. Your sister." He finally looked at me, a flicker of something in his eyes. "Alistair gave you those ledgers. Maybe his aim was to make you discover a thing. Otherwise, perhaps he just sought to pull your attention elsewhere."

"I think he just wanted to make me busy," I said, thinking about how he'd dumped them on me. "He wanted me to feel important, maybe. Or just keep me out of his hair."

"He doesn't do anything just because," Lucian said sharply. "There's always a reason. And a cost."

That chill crept back into my gut as I gave a small nod. Pages shuffled under my fingers
. 
Old bills, letters, some dusty photo albums. Then I found a folder, kind of thin, labelled "Zara... Personal." My heart jumped.

"Lucian," I spoke so softly it almost vanished. "Look at this."

He came over, leaning close. His arm brushed mine, sending a jolt through me.  "What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

"It's about Zara," I mentioned, lifting the cover slow. Her supposed college degree sat there, along with job records, then a handful of notes that looked like recommendations.

Lucian grabbed the degree paper right away. He held it up to the light, studying each detail. He then pulled his phone out next. He typed something fast. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Checking the university," he muttered something. A wrinkle formed across his forehead. Suddenly, his pupils went wide. Shifting gaze between the document and his phone, again and again. He then actually laughed out loud. "No way."

"What's that?" I leaned forward, my voice small.

"Zara's 'degree' is from a place that closed down years ago?" His voice went dead flat. "This is a huge lie. This university, 'St. Augustine's Academy,' it shut its doors a decade ago. It was a small, dodgy place anyway, rumoured to be a diploma mill."

My stomach dropped. I knew Zara never shone in class, sure, but a counterfeit diploma? "Impossible," I whispered. "She’d never do that." Still, while speaking, doubt crept in...  truth was, she might. Zara always wanted the easy way out. She wanted the fancy life without the hard work. This just proved it.

"Oh, she absolutely would," Lucian said, a dark edge to his voice. He looked at me, and I saw a strange understanding in his eyes, like he knew what I was thinking. "These dates don't even add up. It says she graduated in 2018. If the school closed in 2014, how could she graduate four years later?"

"Maybe… maybe it was renamed?" I offered weakly.

Lucian shook his head. "No. The address listed here is an empty lot now. I just checked the city records. This is a complete fabrication." He threw the paper back into the folder. "Let's check her work history."

We went through the next few pages. Some roles appeared... way too senior for her, given she’d just stepped into adulthood and carried that 
questionable degree. Lucian pulled out his phone again, making calls, typing emails.

"That 'senior marketing consultant' job at Sterling Corp?" he said, hanging up the phone, his face grim. "They never heard of her. Their HR department has no record. Neither does their finance department. Not even a temporary intern named Zara Carter."

"It was all made up," I said softly. It wasn't just a white lie... this entire existence had been false. A structure built on shaky ground. One push from collapsing. How could she think she could get away with this here? With Alistair Hale? The man who knew everything.

"Every single entry is a dead end," Lucian said, slamming the folder shut. "No legitimate records. No proof she ever worked at any of these places. No one knows her. Not officially." He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration etched on his face. "This confirms it then. She was never serious about this. About marrying Alistair. About this life. She was playing a part or a game, and not a very good one."

The truth stung, although I saw it coming. But knowing my sister myself felt different than having Lucian spell it out cold. The sadness of it all hit me first, then heat... sharp, and rising. He showed what I ignored... literally how deep my twin sister has pulled me under.

"Okay," I said, trying to shake off the sadness. "What else? We need to keep looking."

Lucian nodded, his determination back. He started going through some of Alistair's personal financial statements, ones he'd found hidden behind a false back in a bookshelf. "These aren't the ledgers he gave you," he explained. "These are his truly private ones. The ones he keeps from everyone."

Back at the stack of papers, my focus sharpened. Zara had lied. Yet Alistair either saw through her... or came close. So what pulled me into this? 
What was his game?

A faded envelope turned up, shoved between dusty land records. Heavy for its size, almost like it carried more than paper. I pried it free without much effort. No glue, no stamp... just a simple fold holding it shut. I unfolded it slowly, revealing crisp transfer slips, odd looking documents, and a letter on very fancy paper. The paper was so fine it didn’t belong near the others.

"Lucian," I said again, my voice catching. "I think I found something else."

He walked over, his gaze moving across the pages I held. A single sheet caught his attention... he lifted it slowly. It was a record of an offshore account. The numbers were huge. Bigger than anything I’d ever seen.

"What is this?" I asked, my blood running cold. "It says 'Isolde Holdings, Ltd.' And this address in the Cayman Islands."

Lucian's eyes were fixed on the document. His hand, which had been resting on my shoulder, slowly tightened. I felt it, the tension, the sudden, extreme stillness in him.

Another piece of paper caught his attention... some kind of certificate, thin and official. Then his face went completely white. Whiter than I had ever seen it. His jaw dropped a little, and his eyes, usually so intense, looked completely lost.

No,” he exhaled, a jagged noise slipping out. "This can't be."

"What is it?" I asked, looking from the papers to his ashen face. My heart was pounding.

He pointed a trembling finger at the name of the company on the certificate. "Isolde Holdings, Ltd. is a shell company, Ivy. But look closely at the registration information. The original founders… the company name itself, it’s not really Isolde Holdings." He lifted the paper, and I saw a name written in small, elegant script beneath the official stamp. Elena Isolde, for Isolde Holdings.

"Elena?" I whispered. "That's your mother's name, isn't it? Your mother's maiden name?"