Chapter 7 - THE FLASH DRIVE
I froze, the cold barrel of the gun mirroring the ice that had just formed in my veins.
Harris stepped forward, snatching the leather journal from my hand. He weighed it in his palm, a cynical smirk twisting his lips. "You really thought a single clean agent could take down the Ashfords? Victor bought my director five years ago. I was placed on this raid to ensure any real evidence was quietly disposed of."
Celeste lunged out of the raft, holding the rusted crowbar. "You son of a bitch!"
Harris didn't even flinch. He casually swung the heavy barrel of the gun, striking Celeste across the temple. She collapsed onto the concrete without a sound.
"Celeste!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside her, shielding Leo with my body.
"She’s alive. For now," Harris said coldly, grabbing my arm and hauling me roughly to my feet. "Daniel is waiting at the private airfield. The feds have frozen his public assets, but he’s got enough offshore to disappear. He just needs the heir to unlock the final trust. Walk."
He shoved me toward a black, unmarked federal SUV parked in the shadows of the overpass. I had no choice. I climbed into the back seat, clutching Leo, my mind racing.
As Harris got into the driver’s seat, I noticed the burner phone Celeste had given me was still sitting in the deep pocket of Eleanor’s trench coat.
With shaking fingers, keeping my hands hidden beneath the folds of the velvet baby blanket, I slid the phone out. I didn't know the numbers of any clean cops. I didn't trust the FBI. But I remembered the emergency tip-line number Celeste had mentioned her journalist brother used for federal prosecutors who operated outside the local jurisdiction.
I dialed the number by memory, pressed send, and slipped the phone back into my pocket, leaving the line open.
Harris drove us to a private airstrip twenty miles outside the city limits. The runway was illuminated by sparse floodlights. A sleek, white Gulfstream jet sat idling on the tarmac, its engines whining with a high-pitched hum.
Daniel was pacing near the boarding stairs. He looked terrible. His face was bruised, his clothes rumpled, his billionaire composure entirely shattered.
Standing a few feet away from him, looking equally desperate, was Victor Ashford.
Harris dragged me out of the car. Daniel’s eyes locked onto Leo, a twisted, hungry look crossing his face.
"Give me my son, Mara," Daniel demanded, holding out his hands.
"You don't want a son," I spat, stepping backward. "You want a key to a bank account."
Victor stepped forward, glaring at Daniel. "Get the boy, get on the plane, and let’s go. The secondary federal warrants will be issued in an hour."
Daniel stopped. He looked at his father. Then, he looked at Harris.
A slow, chilling smile spread across Daniel’s bruised face.
"I’m getting on the plane, Dad," Daniel said. "You aren't."
Victor frowned, his aristocratic features contorting in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"I’m tired of waiting to inherit an empire you built on the back of my real father," Daniel sneered. "I’m the one who tipped the feds off to your specific, personal accounts today. I made sure they only found your name on the deepest fraud. By tomorrow, you’ll be the sole mastermind of the Ashford collapse. And I will be sitting on a beach with a billion dollars in clean trust money."
Victor’s face drained of color as the absolute betrayal registered. "You ungrateful little bastard," Victor hissed, taking a step toward him.
Daniel didn't blink. "Harris. Shoot him."
Harris raised his gun and fired a single, silenced shot.
Victor gasped, clutching his stomach as a bloom of dark red spread across his tailored white shirt. He collapsed onto the wet tarmac, gasping for air.
Daniel didn't even look down at his father. He turned back to me, his eyes dead and hollow. "Now. Hand me the baby, or Harris puts a bullet in your knee, and I take him anyway."
I backed away, tears streaming down my face. I looked around the desolate tarmac. Nobody was coming. The open phone line in my pocket had clearly failed.
Suddenly, Victor grabbed my ankle.
I looked down. The dying billionaire was looking up at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying, venomous spite directed entirely at his son.
With a trembling, blood-soaked hand, Victor reached into his pocket and pressed a small, silver object into my hand.
It was a heavily encrypted, biometric flash drive.
"The offshore... passwords," Victor choked out, blood bubbling on his lips. "Daniel doesn't have them... I changed them... this morning. Take everything from him. Destroy him."
Victor’s head rolled to the side, his eyes staring blankly at the dark sky.
I stood up, gripping the flash drive. The key to the entire empire.
Daniel realized what Victor had handed me. His confident smirk vanished.
"Give me the drive, Mara," Daniel ordered, panic finally creeping into his voice.
I looked at the heavy iron storm drain sitting in the concrete just two feet to my left.
May you like
I held the flash drive directly over the dark, slatted grate. If I dropped it, it would fall into the sewer system, lost forever, taking Daniel’s billion-dollar escape fund with it.
"Call Harris off," I commanded, my voice ringing out clear and strong over the jet engines. "Let me walk away with my son. Or I drop it, and you spend the rest of your life rotting in a federal cell with nothing."
