Part 7: The Hidden Ledger
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 Marcus, my CFO, on a secure encrypted line.
"Marcus," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I need the backup data from the 2024 military audit."
There was a long pause on the other side of the line, the sound of static heavy between us.
"Maya," Marcus said, his voice laced with sudden anxiety. "That file was sealed by the defense logistics agency. Accessing it without an active military clearance is a felony."
"Access it anyway," I said flatly.
"Is everything okay, Boss?"
"The ledger isn't balanced, Marcus," 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 the twins.
I thought about their twin pulses beating in perfect sync on the hospital monitor yesterday.
I had built this infrastructure to keep them safe from the predators who carried polished folders and forged forms.
But the biggest threat wasn't my mother-in-law Carol.
It was the ghost of a legacy Daniel had tried to bury before he ever met me.
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 warehouse district. Bring the folder.
