Chapter 2: The Paper Trail in the Cloud

Leo pushed the tablet into my trembling hands. The screen glowed with a recovered text message thread, an unfamiliar name at the top: Victor Hallowell.

Richard’s frantic pace around the small green room slowed. His eyes darted to the screen, then to Leo.

“What is this?” I whispered, my voice thick with disbelief. The first message was dated three years ago.

“I found his backup,” Leo said, his voice quiet but firm. “On the family cloud. He didn’t delete everything, just hid it.”

Three hundred and twelve messages, meticulously timestamped, laid bare. Each one a tiny knife twisting in my gut.

The texts detailed transfers, percentages, and—the worst part—how Richard and this Victor Hallowell had set up Gentry Media LLC.

“Gentry Media LLC?” I read aloud, my finger tracing the words. “What is Gentry Media LLC?”

Leo pointed to another message. “It’s the shell company. The one that’s been receiving all the streaming royalties for the show.”

My show. The one Richard had insisted was generating nothing.

He had claimed the streaming revenue had collapsed to zero.

But the texts showed the opposite. Hallowell, the celebrity accountant I’d only ever heard mentioned in hushed tones as Richard’s “guy,” was a co-owner of this Gentry Media LLC.

My own stepfather and a renowned Hollywood business manager were actively siphoning off my childhood legacy.

“It’s all here,” Leo said, his finger hovering over a specific thread. “They diverted two point eight million dollars in digital streaming royalties over the last three years.”

My breath hitched. Two point eight million.

All of it, gone. While I worked double shifts on terrible reality shows, believing I was saving my mother.

Richard stood frozen by the snack table, a half-eaten Danish forgotten in his hand. His face had gone from aggressive to ashen.

“This is impossible,” he stammered, but his eyes betrayed him. They flickered to the studio door, seeking escape.

The red light above the door still pulsed, a constant reminder of the live show looming. I had six minutes. Six minutes until I had to sit next to this man on national television.