Chapter 2 - The Ghost in the Storage Room
The figure on my phone screen was Mark.
My sister Chloe’s husband. The soft spoken accountant whom I had personally set up with a six figure job at my firm.
On the live camera feed, Mark wasn't packing beach clothes. He was kneeling beside my fireproof floor safe in the back of the storage room, using a high speed mechanical drill to bypass the keypad.
He wasn't trying to steal cash or jewelry.
He was searching for the encrypted ledger—the master drive containing the ownership titles of the Vance syndicate's legitimate real estate portfolio and the legal guardianship documents for my son.
I realized the terrifying truth in an instant.
My mother and sister hadn't just abandoned Maya out of cruelty or greed. They had deliberately stripped her of food, warmth, and medication, hoping the severe infection from her untreated C-section would kill her quietly while I was trapped six thousand miles away in Germany.
With Maya dead, Mark would claim the ledger, and my mother Eleanor would take legal custody of newborn Liam. They would control my inheritance, my assets, and my family name.
"David?" Maya’s voice broke through my raging thoughts.
She was leaning heavily against my shoulder in the back of the yellow taxi cab, her breath short, her forehead burning hot against my neck. Little Liam whimpered inside my heavy leather jacket, seeking warmth.
"Hold on, sweetheart," I murmured, holding her tighter, my fingers trembling as I stroked her sweat slicked hair. "We're almost at St. Jude's."
I tapped my phone screen, connecting directly to my chief of security, Viktor.
"Boss," Viktor answered on the first ring, his tone sharp. "You're back from Stuttgart?"
"I'm in Manhattan," I said, my voice dropping into an icy register that made the cab driver glance nervously into his rearview mirror. "Mark is inside my Brooklyn apartment storage room right now. He's drilling into my floor safe."
"Should I neutralize him?" Viktor asked instantly.
"No," I commanded. "Let him drill. Lock down the outer building doors silently. Don't let him leave until I arrive. And send two private medical vans to the emergency bay at St. Jude's Private Hospital right now."
"Understood, Boss."
I looked down at Maya. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes resting against hollow, pale cheeks.
For three years, my mother had convinced me that Maya was an opportunist who married me for my money. I had naively trusted my mother, thinking her coldness toward Maya was merely protective maternal instinct.
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I had been blind.
My mother was a predator. And my wife had suffered in silence just to keep my family from tearing itself apart.
