Chapter 5 - Shadows from the Past
By afternoon, Everett had moved Poppy to a secret location.
It was a small, unlisted penthouse he owned near the harbor, guarded by four of Marcus’s most trusted men.
Poppy still hadn't spoken.
She sat by the window, watching the boats move across the grey water, her little bear held tight.
Everett stood in the kitchen of the penthouse, looking at a thick paper file Marcus had just delivered.
In a world of digital data, paper was the only thing that couldn't be hacked.
"Her name isn't Maribelle Vance," Marcus said, pouring himself a cup of black coffee.
Everett looked up from the file.
"What do you mean?"
"Her real name is Julianne Cross," Marcus said, pointing at a vintage photograph in the file.
The woman in the photo was younger, her hair blonde instead of dark, but the eyes were identical.
Cold. Calculating. Beautiful.
"She was born in a small town outside Chicago," Marcus continued.
"Her father was a grifter, her mother died when she was young. She learned the trade early."
"What trade?"
"Targeting wealthy men who are vulnerable," Marcus said. "Specifically, widowers."
Everett felt a sick sensation in his stomach.
He turned the page.
There was a newspaper clipping from five years ago.
Tragic Accident Claims Life of Logistics Magnate Thomas Sterling.
Everett read the article. Thomas Sterling had died of a sudden heart attack at his private estate.
His young wife, Julianne, had inherited forty percent of his estate before selling it off and disappearing.
There was no mention of a child.
"Sterling didn't have kids," Marcus noted, reading Everett's mind.
"But he had a sister who tried to fight the will. She died in a hit-and-run three months later."
"The case was ruled an accident. No suspects."
Everett closed the file with a heavy thud.
He felt stupid. He felt incredibly, deeply stupid.
He had prided himself on being able to see through anyone in a business meeting.
He could spot a liar from a mile away across a boardroom table.
But he had let this woman sleep in his bed. He had let her kiss his daughter.
"She's a professional," Marcus said, as if sensing his thoughts. "Don't blame yourself."
"I am her father," Everett said, his voice shaking with a mixture of grief and anger.
"It is my job to protect her. And I failed."
"You didn't fail. You jumped into a ten-foot pool in a tailored suit and pulled her out."
"That's not failure, Everett. That's survival. Now we fight back."
Everett walked over to the window, looking at Poppy’s reflection in the glass.
"She's not acting alone this time," Everett muttered.
"Thomas Sterling was a logistics billionaire. Vale Industries is a logistics and tech giant."
"She’s following a pattern."
"Exactly," Marcus agreed. "But to pull off the security wipe, she needed someone who understands our network."
"Someone who knew exactly when to loop the cameras."
Everett's phone—the new, secure one Marcus had given him—vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
It was an unknown number.
He answered it, pressing it to his ear.
"Everett," a smooth, familiar voice purred through the line.
It was Maribelle. Or Julianne.
"I see you moved out of the house," she said, her tone light and conversational.
"Such a shame. It was a beautiful property."
Everett's grip on the phone was so tight his knuckles turned white.
"Where are you?" he asked, keeping his voice level.
"Oh, around," she laughed. "I just wanted to check on little Poppy. Is she sleeping well?"
"If you come near my daughter again, I will kill you myself," Everett said, every word a promise.
"Now, now, let's not be dramatic," she said, her voice turning cold.
"You don't have the footage, Everett. You don't have any proof of what happened by the pool."
"But I do have something you want."
"What's that?"
"The authorization codes for the upcoming merger," she said.
"If you don't transfer fifty percent of Vale Industries' shares to my holding account by tomorrow night..."
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"I'll tell the press that you threw your own daughter into the pool in a fit of rage."
"And given your history of grief and depression after your wife's death... who do you think they'll believe?"
