Part 7: The Blind Spot
Part 7: The Blind Spot
I spent the next three hours sitting alone in the dark office, the red light of the security panel blinking continuously on the wall.
The fresh, clean scent of the open garden air felt meaningless now.
I picked up the phone and dialed Naomi, my legal counsel, on a secure encrypted line.
"Naomi," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I need the backup data from the 2024 municipal audit."
There was a long pause on the other side of the line, the sound of static heavy between us.
"Claire," Naomi said, his voice laced with sudden anxiety. "That file was sealed by the state treasury. Accessing it without an active judicial clearance is a felony."
"Access it anyway," I said flatly.
"Is everything okay, Claire?"
"The ledger isn't balanced, Naomi," I said, staring at the crimson folder on my desk. "Someone else has been writing in the margins."
I hung up and walked over to the glass window.
Down below, the streets of the city were quiet, the streetlamps casting long, thin shadows over the parking lot.
I thought about my father.
I thought about his tired face when he tried to step forward at my wedding before I stopped him.
I had built this infrastructure to keep my assets safe from the predators who carried polished folders and forged forms.
But the biggest threat wasn't my mother-in-law Vivian.
It was the ghost of a contract my own family had tried to bury before I ever met Daniel.
May you like
The phone on my desk vibrated, a short, sharp text message from an unknown number.
The meeting is at 3:00 a.m. at the old harbor terminal. Bring the folder.
