Chapter 3 - SHADOWS IN THE HALLWAY
The following morning, Nathan played the part perfectly. He took the pills Grant brought him, watching with a hollow, dead expression as his friend—his enemy—stroked his ego with tales of the company’s recent successes.
“You’re doing great, Nathan,” Grant said, his voice smooth as glass. “The quarterly projections are up. The board is thrilled with the direction of the logistics division. You just focus on your recovery. Let me handle the messiness.”
“I’m tired, Grant,” Nathan murmured, closing his eyes as if the drug were taking its hold.
“Of course you are. Rest. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
As soon as the door closed, Nathan spit the pills into a damp towel tucked into his sleeve. He waited ten minutes, then wheeled himself toward the study. He needed to reach his private server, but he needed a way to bypass the biometric security that he had authorized Grant to oversee years ago.
He remembered the "negotiating face" Sophie used to talk about. He pulled up his files and began a systematic sweep of the organization’s digital footprint. It was a labyrinth of shell companies and offshore accounts. But buried in the meta-data of a secure server was a video file, dated two days before the explosion.
He opened it.
The video was from a hidden camera in his own office—one he had installed but forgotten about. It showed Grant Mercer, standing exactly where Nathan sat now, speaking into a phone.
“The target is set for Saturday. Sheridan Road. The wife is a liability, but the child... the child is just collateral. Once Nathan is incapacitated, I take the reins. He won’t even know what hit him. He’s too soft, too distracted by his ‘happy family.’”
Nathan watched as Grant laughed—a cold, hollow sound that made Nathan want to tear the screen apart. He realized now that Grant’s obsession wasn't just money; it was the power to be the king Nathan had never wanted to be.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Nathan snapped the computer shut, his heart hammering against his ribs. It was Hannah.
She looked at him, her eyes searching his face. She had seen him move, seen him spit out the pills, and seen the shift in his posture. She was smarter than he had given her credit for.
“Mr. Cole,” she whispered, walking toward him. “I heard you arguing with yourself. And then the pills... you didn't take them, did you?”
Nathan turned his chair to face her. “Hannah, you need to leave. With Lucy. Tonight. You need to get out of Chicago.”
May you like
“What is going on?” she asked, her voice steady.
“A war,” Nathan said, his voice low and dangerous. “And I’m the only one left to fight it.”
