Snatched a Billionaire to Be My Husband — Episode 27
Easton’s confession struck with the intimacy of a second betrayal. Cora remembered him sitting at her desk, teasing her for using an outdated laptop while he installed what he called a family planning application. She had trusted the man she intended to marry and entered her fingerprint when he asked. Malcolm had hidden the theft inside a moment that once seemed domestic and harmless.
“Did you know what the program could do?” Byron demanded. Easton shook his head. “Dad said it would let our accountants prepare joint tax projections. I thought it was part of joining the family.” His ignorance did not erase the damage, but Cora believed it was real.
“You never questioned why Malcolm needed access before we were married?” she asked. Easton lowered his gaze. “I wanted him to treat me like someone capable. When he gave me a responsibility, I didn’t examine it.” That hunger for approval had made him useful long before Mia did.
Byron ordered the forensic team to image Easton’s devices and recover every message connected to the installation. Easton surrendered them without conditions. His cooperation could expose him to charges, yet he signed the consent forms before his attorney arrived.
Cora watched the process from the sofa while the ankle monitor blinked beneath her hem. Freedom with a tracking device did not feel much like freedom. Still, Evelyn was safe, the baby was healthy, and the first clear path toward proving the frame had opened. She refused to let the red light dictate the emotional boundaries of the room.
Investigators recovered an old cloud backup that evening. Malcolm’s instructions described a harmless portfolio tool, but the attachment contained a second encrypted package. Its code cloned Cora’s certificate each time she approved an ordinary document.
“This proves capability, not use,” the federal prosecutor warned during a video conference. To dismiss charges, they needed logs connecting the cloned key to someone other than Cora at the exact moment of the transfer. Malcolm’s backup drive had been designed to accuse without revealing its operator.
Carter offered access to Nocturne’s archived servers. The bar belonged to a Hansen subsidiary, and Malcolm had used its private network for unreported meetings. Records from two years earlier might show where the cloned certificate traveled. Carter warned that the archive was incomplete, stored across equipment the company had planned to replace before the investigation froze upgrades.
Cora wanted to join the search, but her release conditions confined her to Byron’s residence except for medical and legal appointments. “I can analyze records from here,” she said. Byron assigned a secure room and staff, making certain the work was genuine rather than another ceremonial task.
They spent two days reconstructing traffic from obsolete backups. Cora learned more about corporate authentication than she ever wanted to know. Work steadied her; each recovered fragment converted helplessness into something measurable. She created a timeline across the study wall, linking devices, people, and accounts with colored notes until Malcolm’s scheme began to acquire shape.
Byron hovered more than usual, appearing with food, water, and reminders from Dr. Kim. Cora accused him of using pregnancy as an excuse to supervise her. “I supervised you before the pregnancy,” he replied. “Now I possess medical justification and better snacks.”
She threw a pencil at him. He caught it, smiled, and returned to his calls. Their ordinary teasing survived even federal charges, proving that Malcolm had failed to reduce their relationship to crisis alone.
The first decisive trace appeared shortly after midnight. The cloned certificate connected to Nocturne’s executive server six minutes before the ninety-million-dollar transfer. A remote user then routed it through Cora’s home address to create the illusion that her laptop initiated the payment.
Carter checked physical access records. Three senior employees had entered the server room that night: Vincent, Malcolm, and Helena Ward, Hansen Holdings’ general counsel. Helena now chaired the internal committee reviewing Byron’s alleged conflicts.
Margaret recognized the name immediately. “Helena handled every document Malcolm wanted separated from the normal audit trail,” she said. “She told the board Byron’s relationship with Cora made him unstable.” Her legal authority had allowed Malcolm’s lies to appear independent. Every opinion she delivered as neutral counsel had been another instrument of his control.
Byron called an emergency board session, but Helena had already submitted a report claiming the server trace was fabricated by his security team. She demanded his renewed suspension and accused him of intimidating federal witnesses to protect his fiancée.
Cora read the report and found a familiar phrase: family integration certificate. It matched the name Malcolm used when instructing Easton to install the program. Helena could know the phrase only if she had seen the original plan.
The evidence still needed a direct connection. Easton’s cloud backup contained one corrupted email from the night of the transfer. Technicians reconstructed the header, revealing that the cloned key had been requested through an executive account. The message had bypassed ordinary retention rules, suggesting its sender understood exactly how Hansen communications were preserved.
“Whose account?” Cora asked. The analyst hesitated before turning the screen. The request carried Byron’s verified internal address and an authorization known only to the CEO’s office.
Cora looked at the man she planned to marry. Byron’s shock appeared genuine, but so had every layer of Malcolm’s frame. Beneath his name, the message read: Transfer the Lane certificate tonight. Cora can never know I authorized it.
