Chapter 13: MIRANDA'S POV

Chapter 13

MIRANDA'S POV

The "miscellaneous" category pulsed on the page, a glaring red flag in a sea of otherwise unremarkable figures. Nicholas's calm instruction to "keep digging" echoed in my ears, stripping away the initial shock and replacing it with a focused determination. My fingers, surprisingly steady now, tapped at the numbers, and my eyes darted back and forth across the columns.

This wasn't literary theory. There was no subtext to debate, no hidden metaphors to uncover. Just cold, hard data. And yet, the underlying principles of analysis felt strangely similar. Nicholas was right; numbers told a story. And this story felt… deliberately obscured.

I traced the timeline of the "miscellaneous" allocations. The spike in the third quarter wasn't isolated; there were smaller, less significant increases in the preceding two quarters, almost like a gradual build-up. It suggested a pattern, a careful, escalating diversion rather than a sudden, one-off event. What kind of legitimate expenses would rise so steadily and then suddenly surge under such a generic label?

My gaze drifted to the footnotes, my usual haven in academic texts. Here, they were sparse, almost dismissive. The "miscellaneous" category was vaguely attributed to "unforeseen operational costs." A corporate catch-all. But the sheer volume of the allocation screamed otherwise.

I flipped back to the executive summary, then to the overview of Sterling Investments' core business. Real estate development, primarily. Large-scale urban projects. My mind, trained to connect disparate pieces of information, began to weave a tentative narrative. A major project would involve significant, often unforeseen, expenses. But these would typically be categorized under project development, construction overruns, or specific legal fees. "Miscellaneous" felt too vague, too convenient for such substantial sums.

My internal monologue shifted from panicked internal screams to a rapid-fire series of logical deductions. If these weren't legitimate business expenses, what were they? Bribes? Payments to circumvent regulations? Or something far darker, something tied to the "blood and deception" that Nicholas traded in.

I looked up, my eyes instinctively drawn to Nicholas. He was still observing me, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt to his head. He didn't need to ask; my focus, the slight tension in my shoulders, broadcasted my engagement. He was waiting, patiently, for me to pull the thread.

"The rise in miscellaneous expenses," I began, my voice clear, cutting through the heavy silence, "correlates, albeit vaguely, with the reported progress of the downtown waterfront project." My finger tapped the corresponding section in the report. "While large projects have unexpected costs, this scale of 'miscellaneous' spending, especially given the preceding incremental increases, suggests a more systemic, perhaps even clandestine, use of funds. It's too substantial to be merely 'unforeseen operational costs'."

A slow, deliberate smile spread across Nicholas's face. It wasn't warm, or kind, but it held a chilling satisfaction. "Go on," he prompted, his voice a low rumble. "Don't stop there."

The recognition in his eyes, the almost imperceptible nod, fueled a strange surge of adrenaline. I was seeing it. The truth, hidden within the numbers. And for the first time since walking into this gilded cage, I felt a spark of control, a sense of purpose beyond mere survival.