Chapter 2 He looks suspicious

Ariana stood up from the couch and walked to her bedroom. She changed out of her paint-stained clothes into a plain black t-shirt and jeans. She grabbed her keys and a small flashlight from the drawer, then left the apartment, locking the door behind her.

The evening air was cool as she walked to the bus stop. She checked the schedule on her phone and saw the next bus to Cross Enterprise's office building would arrive in seven minutes. She sat on the bench and waited, her mind focused on what she needed to do.

When the bus arrived, she boarded, swiped her card, and took a seat near the back. The ride took twenty minutes. She got off at the stop closest to the office and walked the remaining two blocks. The building was dark except for the security light near the entrance. After ascending the elevator through the underground parking lot, she used her key to unlock the front door of the hallway leading to her father's office and stepped inside, flipping on the lights.

The office looked the same as always-neat but worn. Her father's desk sat in the corner, piled with paperwork. She went straight to the filing cabinet behind it and pulled open the top drawer. She started sorting through the financial records, looking for anything unusual.

After ten minutes of searching, she found a folder labeled "Vendor Payments – Q3." Inside, several invoices had red marks next to them, along with handwritten notes she didn't recognize. The amounts didn't match the company's usual suppliers. She took photos of each page with her phone.

A noise from the hallway made her freeze. She turned off the flashlight and listened. Footsteps. Someone was inside the building.

She closed the drawer quietly and moved toward the back exit. Before she could reach it, the office door swung open. A tall man in a dark jacket stood there, his expression unreadable.

"Ariana," he said. "You shouldn't be here."

She recognized him-Daniel Collins, the company's operations manager. "I needed some files," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Daniel stepped closer. "It's not safe. The police might come back."

She held up the folder. "Then why are these payments off? Who authorized them?"

His jaw tightened. "That's not your concern."

She slipped the folder into her bag. "It is now."

Daniel's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. "Give it back."

She yanked free and backed toward the door. "Tell me what's going on, Daniel."

He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "She's here," he said quietly.

Ariana didn't wait to hear more. She turned and ran, shoving open the back door and sprinting into the alley. Behind her, she heard Daniel shout, but she didn't stop. She rounded the corner and ducked into a convenience store, losing herself in the crowd.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Martin: "Don't go to the office. Call me as soon as you can."

She ignored it for now. She needed to get home first. She hailed a cab and gave the driver her address, clutching the folder in her bag like a treasure.

The cab ride home passed in tense silence. Ariana kept checking the side mirror to see if anyone followed them, but the streets remained clear. When they reached her apartment building, she paid the driver in cash and hurried inside, taking the stairs two at a time.

She locked her apartment door behind her and immediately pulled the blinds shut. After dumping the folder on her small dining table, she slumped tiredly on one of the chairs spreading the documents out and examined them again. The red-marked invoices were all from a company called "Bracken Supplies"-a name she'd never heard her father mention. The amounts were large, but the descriptions were vague: "materials," "logistics," "consultation." Nothing specific.

Her phone buzzed. Martin again. This time she answered.

"Where are you?" His voice was tight.

"Home," she said. "I found something. Invoices that don't make sense."

"You went to the office?" Martin sounded frustrated. "I told you not to. It's not safe."

"Daniel was there," she said. "He tried to stop me from leaving."

"Daniel Collins? The company's operations manager?"

"Yes. He made one cryptic call before I ran. His behavior was really strange."

Martin exhaled sharply. "Listen carefully. Don't go anywhere. Don't talk to anyone else. I'm coming over."

She hung up and returned to the documents. In the corner of one invoice, she noticed a smudged stamp-part of an address. She held it up to the light. The first few letters were clear: "BRACK..." followed by numbers that might be a street address.

Her laptop was on the coffee table. She opened it and searched for Bracken Supplies. Nothing came up. She tried adding the partial address, but still no results. The company either didn't exist or was carefully hidden.

A knock at the door made her jump. She closed the laptop.

"Martin?" she called.

"Yes. Open up."

She checked through the peephole before unlocking the door. Martin stood there in a rumpled suit, his briefcase in hand. He stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

"Show me what you found," he said.

She led him to the table. Martin scanned the documents, his frown deepening. After a minute, he pulled out his phone and took pictures of each page.

"This is bad," he muttered. "If these are fake invoices used to siphon money..."

"Then someone framed him," she finished.

Martin nodded. "But we need proof of who. And why."

Ariana pointed to the smudged stamp. "I tried tracing this. But I didn't find anything."

Martin studied it. "I know a guy who can trace shell companies. But it'll take time." He gathered the papers. "I'm taking these. You stay inside. If anyone contacts you -- especially Daniel-- you call me. Uunderstood?"

She nodded. As Martin left, she locked the door again and sat on the couch, staring at her silent phone.

Then it rang.

An unknown number.

She hesitated before answering. "Hello?"

A distorted voice spoke slowly. "Stop digging, Ariana. Or your father won't be the only one in jail."

The line went dead.

She set the phone down carefully. Outside, Martin's car engine started and faded into the distance.

Ariana sat frozen on the couch for several minutes, the lawyer's warning echoing in her mind. The evening light was fading through her small apartment window. She knew she should eat something, but the thought of food made her sick.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Kiara.

"I booked a train ticket. I'll be at your place soon."

Ariana's fingers flew across the screen. "No. Stay in your dorm. There's nothing you can do here."

The reply came instantly. "He's my dad too. I'm coming."

Ariana threw her phone onto the couch in frustration. She couldn't deal with Kiara's stubbornness right now. Getting up, she walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Her hands shook slightly as she drank.

The apartment felt suffocating. She grabbed her jacket and headed back out into the cooling evening air. Maybe a walk would clear her head.

As she turned the corner near the local grocery store, she noticed a man in a dark jacket leaning against a lamppost. He wasn't looking at her, but something about the way he stood made her uneasy. She quickened her pace, turning down a busier street.

When she glanced back, the man was gone.

Ariana let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She was being paranoid. Still, she changed direction and headed toward the well-lit main road where people still crowded the sidewalks.

Her phone rang suddenly, making her jump. It was an unknown number again.

"Hello?" she answered cautiously.

A male voice, smooth and calm, said, "Miss Ross, we should talk. About your father's situation."

"Who is this?"

"Someone who can help. Meet me at the diner on 5th and Maple. One hour." The line went dead.

Ariana stared at her phone. This could be a trap. But what choice did she have? She needed answers.

She arrived at the diner early and chose a booth near the back where she could see the door. The place was half-empty - just a couple at the counter and an old man reading a newspaper.

Twenty minutes later, a tall man in a gray suit entered. He scanned the room, then walked straight to her table.

"Miss Ross," he said, sliding into the booth across from her. "I appreciate you coming."

Up close, she could see he was older than she first thought, maybe in his fifties, with sharp gray eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name isn't important. What matters is I know the truth about your father's arrest." He pulled a folded document from his inside pocket and slid it across the table.

Ariana opened it carefully. It was a bank statement showing large transfers from Cross Enterprise to an offshore account.

"This is fake," she said immediately.

The man smiled slightly. "Of course it is. But it's the evidence they're using against him."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because," he said, lowering his voice, "I helped create these documents. And for the right price, I can make them disappear."

Ariana's blood ran cold. "You're admitting to framing my father?"

The man shrugged. "Business is business, Miss Ross. Now, can you raise two hundred thousand dollars by Friday?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "That's impossible."

"Then your father goes to prison." He stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. "Think about it. I'll call you tomorrow."

As he walked away, Ariana sat frozen, the fake bank statement crumpling in her shaking hands. She had three days to find money she didn't have, or her father would be destroyed.