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Over the next three days, I worked like a person possessed.

Bank statements, purchase transfer records, renovation invoices, furniture orders, chat history, the wedding vendor contracts, my mother's bank records from the house sale — I collated everything into a binder.

Sadie came with me to the developer's sales office to pull the CCTV footage.

The sales manager hedged at first — the footage is old, records are difficult to access.

Until Elliot arrived.

"My client, as the actual purchaser, has the right to preserve this evidence. If this company assisted a non-purchaser in completing a registration — knowingly — you'll be named in the proceedings too."

The sales manager went pale and cooperated immediately.

What the CCTV showed: the day of signing, I was seated in the main chair, going through the contract page by page. Conrad sat beside me, occasionally passing forms.

Then — he told me I had a call.

I left the room.

The footage for those few minutes was slightly degraded. But the implication was enough.

More significantly, the sales team produced their internal records.

The original client file read: Female buyer — primary residence, cash purchase.

Client name: Stella Fairfax.

I stared at that line and felt my eyes sting.

The trace had always been there.

I'd just trusted him too much to look for it.

Elliot filed the papers and said, quietly: "Enough."

"Enough to win?"

"Enough that they're not sleeping tonight."