could be documented.
I traced the destination accounts until one connected to Evelyn.
I checked twice.
Same routing number.
Same bank.
Same name.
“Of course,” I whispered. “Of course, it was her.”
Then I checked login records.
Every login leaves a footprint.
There were account accesses from my home while I was halfway around the world.
Same device signature.
Same location.
No attempt to hide it.
They had simply assumed I would never check.
Then I found a document uploaded three months earlier.
Power of attorney.
My name at the
