By the time I left the café, my nerves were thrumming like a live wire. Amelia's voice still echoed in my head. Do it. It was permission, but also a weight. Now it was on me.
I called Daniel on the walk back to my office. He picked up on the second ring.
"Bran," he said, voice warm and brisk at the same time. "Been a while. What's up?"
"I need a favour," I said. My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. "And it's big."
That earned me a pause. "How big?"
"Big enough that we should meet in person. Today."
Another silence, then a low chuckle. "You sound like you're about to hand me Watergate."
I didn't laugh. "Close enough. Are you free?"
"Two hours. The King's Arms, corner of Charlotte Street. We'll grab a booth."
*****
The pub was crowded but not loud, the kind of place where conversations blended together into white noise. Perfect. Daniel was already there when I arrived, his pint half-finished, his notebook sitting unopened on the table. He looked up as I slid into the booth across from him.
"You weren't kidding," he said, taking in my expression.
"Alright, Bran. What's got you looking like someone's about to put a bullet in your head?"
I opened my laptop and angled it toward him, just like I had with Amelia. "This," I said simply.
He leaned in, scanning the first few pages. His brows drew together fast. "Family trust… offshore accounts… huh." He flipped through more. "Wait. Is this the Sterns... and they are behind this?"
"Yes." My throat felt tight. "They stole millions from their own company and set up their daughter to take the fall. And Graham — their lawyer friend — he's in on it. I've traced the transfers. Everything ties back to them."
Daniel sat back, whistling low. "Jesus Christ. And you're sure about this? Because if I run with it and it's wrong —"
"It's not wrong," I cut in sharply. "I've checked every angle twice. This isn't sloppy accounting. It's deliberate fraud."
He drummed his fingers on the table, weighing it. "Alright. Say I believe you. Why bring it to me? Why not the authorities?"
"Because the authorities will take months to act. By then, the Sterns will have buried the trail. The press is faster. You put this out now. It forces their hand. They won't be able to spin it first."
Daniel studied me for a long beat, his eyes narrowing. "And the daughter? Amelia. Where does she fit in this?"
"She doesn't," I said firmly. "She's innocent. She's already being framed in the paperwork. If we don't clear her name; she's finished, she could go to jail. You publish this. You leave her out of it. All of it."
He tilted his head, watching me closely. "You're being protective."
"She doesn't deserve this," I said, keeping my voice even. "And I'm not letting her take the blame."
That seemed to convince him more than any of the documents. Slowly, Daniel closed the laptop and nodded. "Alright. I'll need copies. I'll start pulling on threads and confirm what I can. If it's as airtight as you say… it's going to be a hell of a story."
"Do it fast," I said. "They won't sit quietly once they catch wind."
He gave me a wry smile. "Relax, Bran. I've been waiting for a story like this for years." He raised his glass in a mock toast. "The Sterns won't know what hit them."
I didn't raise mine. My stomach was still tight, my pulse still uneven. If this went wrong — if Daniel slipped, if the Sterns realised where the leak came from — Amelia would be in more danger than ever.
And I'd be the one who put her there.
*****
Amelia sat curled up on the end of my sofa, her knees drawn in close, one hand wrapped around a mug that had gone cold twenty minutes ago. She stared at the dark window like she expected her parents to appear on the other side of the glass.
I'd seen her calm in the mountains; holding her own against Mark. I'd seen her bristle with anger, snap with sharp words when someone underestimated her. But this — this was different. This was Amelia on edge, stripped raw, and I hated that I couldn't shield her from it.
"I keep thinking about Graham," she said suddenly, her voice flat, brittle. "How many times I called him for advice. How many times I let him walk me through contracts, tell me what was safe to sign. And the whole time…" She shook her head, pressing her lips together hard. "I should have seen it."
"You couldn't have seen it," I said quietly from the armchair opposite her. "They built it that way. They wanted you blind. Don't do their work for them by blaming yourself."
She gave a humourless laugh. "Easy for you to say. You weren't the one they set up."
I didn't answer. There wasn't a right thing to say to that. She wasn't wrong.
The silence stretched. The clock on the wall ticked too loudly. Somewhere down the street a siren wailed, then faded fast. I checked my phone for the fifth time in ten minutes — no message from Daniel. No call. Nothing.
Amelia noticed. "Still nothing?"
I shook my head. "He's thorough. He won't move until he's confirmed everything. It's what makes him good."
"But every hour that goes by is another chance for them to find out," she whispered. Her grip tightened on the mug. "What if they already know?"
The thought had crossed my mind more than once. My shoulders were tight with it. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.
"If they knew, we'd know too. You'd have heard something. A call from Graham. A board meeting. Something official. Silence is our advantage right now."
She studied me for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether she could believe me.
Finally, she said softly, "I don't want to go home tonight."
"Ok," I said immediately. "Whatever you need."
I didn't move closer, though. Not yet. She needed space to breathe, to feel like she still had control. So I stayed where I was, watching over her from the other side of the room, letting her know without words that I wasn't going anywhere.
The hours dragged. Midnight came and went. Amelia's eyes were heavy, but she refused to lie down, her back stiff against the sofa cushions, every muscle taut like she was bracing for impact.
I wanted to tell her it would all be fine. That Daniel would come through. That her parents wouldn't get away with it. But I didn't. Because I'd learned enough to know Amelia didn't want promises. She wanted truth.
So I gave her that. "It's not over yet," I said quietly. "But we've started something they can't stop. That's what matters now."
She looked at me across the dim room, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, just once, and leaned back into the sofa cushions.
We waited together, the silence heavy but shared, both of us clinging to the fragile knowledge that the first blow had already been struck — even if we couldn't see it land yet.