Chapter 2: One Word That Changed Everything
The word I circled was *Erbengemeinschaft*.
A German inheritance term.
Postwar.
Obscure.
And completely out of place in a modern shipping contract — unless someone was trying to hide where the money originally came from.
Dominic set down his scotch.
"Where did you study?" he asked.
His voice was quiet.
Controlled.
But his eyes were different now.
"Columbia," I said.
"International legal history.
My dissertation covers exactly this kind of clause."
Victoria laughed — a short, sharp sound.
"You're a *waitress.*"
"Tonight I am," I said.
"But that word you just had translated in paragraph nine?
It doesn't mean what your attorney told you it means.
It means the original asset transfer was never legally completed.
Which means every property deed, every shipping license, every account built on top of it—"
I paused.
"—belongs to someone else."
The table went completely still.
Then a phone buzzed.
Dominic looked down at the screen.
Something shifted in his face — not anger.
Something closer to fear.
He stood up slowly, buttoned his jacket, and looked at me with an expression I had never seen on a man like him before.
"Don't leave," he said.
"Not yet."
Victoria grabbed his arm.
"Dominic—"
"Sit down, Victoria."
That was when I noticed the man by the bar.
He had been there all evening.
He wasn't eating.
May you like
He wasn't drinking.
And he was watching our table very, very carefully.
