“Why does he need that kind of liquidity?” Liam asked, pacing the narrow space between the bed and the heart monitor. “Apex is supposed to be valuation-rich. They own half the waterfront.”

“Valuation isn’t cash,” I said. “I need to look at the ledger transactions.”

I opened the encrypted database file, pulling up the cash-flow ledger from the past twelve months.

Rows of numbers scrolled down the screen, color-coded in green and red.

I sorted the columns by transaction size, looking for the largest recurring outflows.

“These aren’t standard construction payments,” I murmured, tracking a series of wire transfers. “They’re listed as consulting fees, but the routing numbers are routing through a local credit union.”

“Which one?” Liam asked, leaning over my shoulder.

“Tri-County Teachers Credit Union,” I said. “It’s a small, regional bank. Not where a multi-million-dollar development firm does business.”

“And the recipient?”

The name on the account was listed as an anonymous LLC: *D&V Holdings.*

I opened a secondary folder on the desktop labeled *Correspondence.*

Inside were scanned receipts and digital memos signed with initials rather than full names.