The job was a morgue visit. Digitally.

I sat in the server room, the air arctic, the only sound the hum of the fans. My task was simple. Tedious. Verify the assets of the now-defunct Apollo Digital Exchange. The creditors were circling. They’d be lucky to get back ten cents on the dollar. I was just the accountant picking through the bones.

My screen glowed. Just another wallet on the Solana explorer. A long string of characters. This one, however, belonged to the CEO. Julian Hayes. Dead. A boating accident three months ago, somewhere off the coast of Monaco. Unfortunate. The wallet had been dormant for a year, holding a tidy sum of SOL. Untouchable without the private key, which supposedly went to the bottom of the Mediterranean with him. A digital mausoleum.

I stared at the screen, my eyes dry. The last transaction was 368 days ago.

Then the block updated.

It happened in an instant. A flicker. A new entry at the top of the ledger. A confirmation. Green.

SUCCESS

5,000 SOL moved.

My heart hammered once. Hard. Gas fees were paid. A signature was confirmed. A dead man had just signed a transaction.

My fingers flew across the keyboard. On-chain analysis. No time for fancy tools. Just me, the block explorer, and the raw data. I followed the hash. The funds weren't going to a mixer, not Tornado, not anything designed to wash. That would have been the smart play.

No. This was sloppy.

The SOL landed in a new address. A fresh wallet. But the address wasn’t random. It was a vanity address. It started with a name.

CorpTrav...

I froze. I’d seen that prefix before. I pulled up the payroll logs from the exchange's internal servers. There it was. The multisig wallet used for corporate travel expenses. A fund Julian Hayes had sole signing authority over.

He wasn't dead.

He was just cashing out. And he got impatient. He made a mistake, moving the funds from his "dead" wallet directly to an internal one, all while I happened to be staring at the public ledger. A ghost in the machine, leaving a perfect, immutable breadcrumb trail right back to himself.

My screen displayed the transaction hash. A permanent, undeniable record of the event. Proof.

JSON

{
  "transactionHash": "4pPjYj8nF...K9dZtYqWvXz",
  "status": "Success",
  "block": 248931882,
  "timestamp": "1736985540",
  "signer": "JHyS...d3a7" // Julian Hayes - DECEASED
  "source": "JHyS...d3a7",
  "destination": "CorpTrav...k9b2",
  "amount": "5000.00 SOL",
  "fee": "0.000005 SOL"
}

The server fans whirred, oblivious. The cold air bit at my skin. I had him.

I reached for my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen. It would be one call to the federal marshals. One call, and the whole house of cards would come crashing down on him for good.

The transaction hash glowed on the monitor. A beautiful, damning string of characters.

I stared at it.

My thumb stayed where it was.