Chapter 2 - The Key to the Shed
Helen left the gold hardware scattered across the kitchen table, grabbed her heavy winter coat, and stepped out onto the back porch.
The October wind was biting, rustling the dry oak leaves across the lawn toward Robert’s detached two-car garage.
A heavy padlock hung from the service door, its brass surface gleaming beneath the motion sensor floodlight.
Robert kept the key on his master ring, but Helen knew her husband of twenty-eight years better than he knew himself.
She walked over to the stack of split firewood stacked neatly against the shed wall.
She reached behind the third log from the top, sliding her fingers into the hollow bark until metal bit into her palm.
She slid the key into the padlock, turned it until it clicked open, and pushed the heavy wooden door into the darkness.
The air inside smelled thick with pungent leather dye, petroleum-based cement, and machine oil.
She reached for the hanging pull-string, flooding the workshop with harsh fluorescent light that hummed like an angry wasp.
In the center of the garage sat a heavy-duty industrial leather sewing machine Helen had never seen before.
Along the back wall, six large cardboard crates were stacked to the rafters, their shipping labels displaying Chinese customs declarations for raw vinyl and synthetic hide.
On the workbench lay half-finished designer wallets, brass cutting dies, and a heat-stamping press with custom steel brand plates.
Helen sank against the edge of the workbench, her fingers brushing over a pile of synthetic dust covers and fake authentication cards.
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Every single card had a golden serial number embossed across the front, complete with fake QR codes leading to cloned luxury websites.
Her husband wasn't just fixing things with golden hands; he was running a massive criminal fraud ring from their home.
