Chapter 1 - The Paperwork of Ghosts
The silence in the living room was suffocating. Thirty guests stood frozen, their plastic champagne flutes hovering mid-air, caught between secondhand embarrassment and morbid curiosity. The broken crystal of Maribel’s bottle lay in a puddle of vintage brut on the hardwood floor, fizzy foam hissing like a dying snake.
Damian looked at his boss, then at me, his jaw working soundlessly. "Maribel... what are you talking about? Iris, do you know Maribel?"
I didn't answer him. My eyes were locked onto the leather-bound corporate portfolio resting on our credenza—the one Damian had proudly slapped down on the kitchen island that morning, crowing about his promotion to Regional Director of Logistics for Apex Global.
I took two slow steps toward the credenza.
Maribel backed toward the foyer, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her designer handbag like a shield. The emerald dress she wore was the exact color of the velvet ribbon Logan had tied to his high school diploma.
"Don't touch that," Maribel hissed, her voice cracking. "Damian, get her away from those files. She’s sick. She’s been obsessed with ruining my life for a decade!"
"Obsessed?" I said, my voice dead, quiet, and cutting through the room like a scalpel. "My brother Logan was twenty-two years old, Maribel. He was working the night shift to pay for nursing school. You chained the emergency exits shut from the outside because you didn't want employees sneaking smoke breaks on company time."
Gasps rippled through the gathered coworkers. Damian’s face drained of color.
"That was an accident!" Maribel shrieked, her veneer of corporate sophistication disintegrating. "The investigation cleared me of criminal intent!"
"Because your father sat on the city safety council," I said, flipping the leather folder open. "The civil suit bankrupted your logistics subsidiary and stripped your operating license in Indiana. You changed your maiden name from Decker to Kane, dyed your hair raven black, and moved two states over. But look at this."
I held up the internal manifest Damian had signed just three days ago.
"Apex Global isn't a new company," I told Damian, turning the page toward his horrified gaze. "It’s a shell corporation registered to the Decker Trust. And this signature line—the one where you signed off on the 'unrestricted storage waiver' for the new distribution warehouse in Marion County?"
Damian swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "What about it? Maribel said it was standard procedure for bulk freight."
"It’s not freight, Damian," I said, cold tears finally pricking the corners of my eyes. "It’s industrial solvent. The exact same highly volatile solvent that burned my brother until dental records were the only way we could identify his body. She didn't promote you because you're brilliant. She promoted you because if that building burns down, the compliance officer who signed the illegal waivers goes to federal prison. And that officer is you."
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Maribel didn't argue. She didn't deny it. Without a single word of apology, she spun on her designer heels, yanked our front door open, and sprinted into the pouring rain.
***