Chapter 8 - The Message in the Dark
Two hours before I walked out of Room 402, while Daniel was downstairs signing the official hospital discharge guarantee, my phone had vibrated in my coat pocket.
It was an encrypted text message from an unknown number.
Sender: Marcus Vance (Task Force). Message: Emily. I received the raw telemetry and the shell company files you set on the auto-timer. We verified the Panama accounts through the offshore banking registry fifteen minutes ago.
I had retreated into the private bathroom, locking the door, my heart hammering against my ribs as I read the rest of the text.
Marcus Vance: Daniel didn't just set up those accounts for himself and Jessica. There is a second transfer order logged for 1:30 p.m. today. Daniel is liquidating the entire Castellano Family Trust account—thirty-eight million dollars—and moving it directly to a private bank in Zurich. He bought two one-way tickets to Switzerland under the names Daniel Miller and Jessica Vance for a 4:00 p.m. flight today.
I stared at the screen, my breath catching in my throat.
He wasn't taking me home.
He was going to drive me from the hospital straight to a private psychiatric facility outside the city limits, drop me off under Dr. Harrison’s fake admission papers, pick up Jessica and his luggage, and board a plane to Zurich before sunset.
He was leaving his mother behind with forty million dollars in debt, legal lawsuits from his firm's ruined clients, and a ruined family legacy.
And Margaret was standing outside the hospital right now, wearing her silk scarf and her arrogant smile, completely oblivious to the fact that her beloved son was about to throw her into a pit of total financial ruin.
I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket right there on the hospital sidewalk.
The time on the screen read 1:48 p.m.
Twelve minutes before the auto-send timer released the complete evidentiary package to the FBI, the managing partners, and Margaret.
Daniel saw the phone in my hand.
His eyes narrowed violently. "Where did you get that phone?" he snapped, stepping forward, dropping all pretense of kindness. "Give that to me right now!"
"Don't touch me, Daniel," I said, stepping back, holding the screen up so he could see the digital timer counting down.
00:11:42... 00:11:41...
"What is that?" Daniel demanded, his voice cracking with a sudden, sharp edge of terror.
"This is the timer for your destruction," I said calmly.
Margaret stepped up beside him, her face twisting in disgust. "Daniel, stop playing around with her! Grab her bag and put her in the car! We're going to be late for the appointment at the Ridgeview Facility!"
"Ridgeview Facility?" I laughed—a sharp, cold sound that made Jessica flinch. "You really thought you were going to lock me away in an asylum today, didn't you, Margaret?"
"You belong in an asylum!" Margaret spat out. "You're delusional! You've been slandering my son for months!"
"Have I?" I looked at Margaret with a pity so intense it made her stop yelling. "Margaret... do you know where Daniel is taking you after he drops me off?"
"He's taking us home for lunch!" Margaret declared.
"No," I said, leaning forward slightly, my eyes locking onto hers. "He's taking Jessica to the airport. He bought two tickets for the 4:00 p.m. flight to Zurich."
Margaret froze. She blinked, her haughty expression faltering for a fraction of a second. "What... what are you talking about?"
"Ask him," I said, pointing my finger at Daniel. "Ask your son about J.V. Enterprises. Ask him about the thirty-eight million dollars he drained from the Castellano Family Trust at 1:30 p.m. today."
Margaret turned her head slowly, looking at Daniel. "Daniel? What is she talking about?"
Daniel's face had gone completely white—the stark, ghastly white of a corpse. "She's lying, Mother! She's hysterical! The drugs Harrison gave her are making her talk nonsense!"
"Am I?" I tapped my phone screen once.
May you like
I opened the document file Marcus Vance had sent me thirty minutes ago—the Zurich bank transfer confirmation bearing Daniel's electronic signature and his primary master key code.
I held the phone screen three inches from Margaret's face.
