He replied, “Because she specifically instructed that you receive it first, and she believed you were the only person capable of recognizing its significance without dismissal.”
That statement lingered longer than anything else spoken in the room.
I left shortly after with the folder secured, while the city outside continued functioning as if nothing had changed. My phone showed multiple messages from Evan requesting immediate contact before the funeral, but I did not respond.
Instead, I instructed the driver to take me to Kendra’s apartment, because understanding her environment was the only way to separate truth from speculation.
Inside her apartment, everything was organized with precise discipline, reflecting her personality and professional habits. Nothing appeared disturbed, which made the absence of her presence more pronounced rather than less.
Her laptop remained open on a desk, and I accessed her cloud storage using credentials she had once shared during a prior family emergency. Inside, I found a directory labeled Project Ledger containing structured financial records, screenshots, and handwritten observations.
One folder stood out, labeled Red Flags.