Chapter 81: The Inheritance That Vanished

Derek spent the next two days tracing the development fund mentioned in Charles Stone's records. The original investment had performed extremely well. Freya's father's share should have passed into his estate after his death.

Instead, the ownership interest had been transferred three weeks before the estate closed.

The authorization carried Martin Vale's office stamp.

Freya stared at the scanned document. "He said Victor told him Stonebridge needed to remain active. He never mentioned transferring an investment."

"He may not have known," Louis said.

The signature attached to the transfer looked like Martin's, but the date raised questions. Derek contacted him carefully and sent only a cropped copy.

Martin called Freya within ten minutes.

"I didn't sign this."

His voice shook.

He explained that his office used stamped authorization sheets for routine estate filings. Several employees had access to them at the time.

"Who handled my parents' files?" Freya asked.

Martin was silent before naming a former paralegal: Helen Ward.

Derek searched the name.

Helen had left Martin's firm shortly after Freya's estate closed. Two years later, she joined a corporate administration company.

That company eventually became part of Greyline's network.

Freya leaned back in disbelief. "There it is again."

Louis looked less surprised. "Greyline may have been absorbing useful people for years."

The vanished inheritance had passed through three entities before landing in a private investment vehicle. Its current ownership was hidden behind nominee structures.

Derek estimated the original amount plus years of growth would now be substantial.

Freya shook her head. "I don't care about recovering every dollar."

Louis looked at her. "You should."

"Why? I already have enough."

"Because it belonged to your parents and was taken from you."

His answer made her pause.

In her previous life, money had always meant independence. In the original Freya's life, money had become emotional security. Louis saw it differently: ownership, responsibility, and principle.

"Fine," she said. "We recover it if we can prove it."

"We will."

"Don't say that like you're about to declare war."

"I'm not."

"Your face says otherwise."

Later that evening, Freya found him studying the transfer chain again.

"Louis."

He looked up.

"This isn't your loss to fix."

"You're my wife."

The answer came without hesitation.

Freya's heartbeat stumbled.

Louis continued as though he hadn't said anything remarkable. "If someone stole from your estate, it concerns me."

She looked away before he could read her expression.

Her original plan had involved eventually accepting a breakup fee from him. Now Louis was preparing to recover an inheritance she hadn't known existed.

The balance between them was becoming impossible to calculate.

And increasingly, Freya wasn't sure she wanted to.

Freya opened her financial spreadsheet later and stared again at the line marked Future Separation. She had stopped adding numbers to it after their first date. This time, she deleted the line entirely. She told herself it was only because the plan was outdated. She did not examine why deleting it felt both terrifying and strangely relieving.

The next step could wait until morning. Too many things had changed at once, and neither of them wanted to make another decision simply because uncertainty was uncomfortable. They had learned that patience often revealed more than pressure ever could.