Chapter 3 - The Ghost Returns
The phone rang twice. When he answered, he didn’t say "Hello." He simply said, "Mara?"
The sound of his voice—commanding, steady, and terrifyingly calm—almost made me weep. My throat tightened. “Dad, I need you.”
“Tell me where you are,” he ordered, his voice shifting instantly into the tone he used when he was back in the courtroom, the tone that made witnesses tremble.
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I gave him the address. I told him briefly about the house, the illegal loans, and the physical threat. He didn't ask if I was sure. He didn't ask if we could work it out. He just said, “Don’t open the door for anyone but me. I’m four hours away. Stay silent, stay in the house, and do not let them see you falter. I’m coming.”
The next few hours were a blur of calculated activity. I didn't pack a bag—that would be suspicious. I simply gathered my external hard drives, my passport, and the burner phone. I wiped the main computer, leaving only a single document on the desktop: The Audit. It was a comprehensive, 40-page report of every cent Daniel had stolen and every law he had broken, cross-referenced with bank statements and emails. I left the makeup bag exactly where he had dropped it. I looked in the mirror, adjusted my scarf to hide the worst of the marks, and sat on the sofa. I didn't hide. I waited, my pulse finally slowing into a rhythm of pure, cold focus.
