My daughter choked out, “Dad, help,” moments before the call went completely silent. I raced down the highway at 100 mph, driving straight toward her in-laws’ mansion. When I got there, my son-in-law stood across the porch, holding a baseball bat with a smug grin on his face. “This is a private family matter,” he said icily. “Your daughter needed to be disciplined.”

I slid violently down the metal chute, completely unable to stop my rapid descent.

I hit the bottom hard, rolling across a damp concrete floor to absorb the brutal impact.

My flashlight had shattered during the fall, leaving me in near-total darkness.

I slowly got to my feet, my muscles screaming in absolute agony.

Faint fluorescent lights flickered in the distance.

I walked cautiously down the long, cold corridor.

The air down here was incredibly cold and smelled strongly of powerful chemical cleaners.

I passed a row of heavy steel doors that looked exactly like prison cells.

The Thornes weren't just a corrupt family with illegal bank accounts.

They were running a massive human trafficking operation right beneath their beautiful estate.

I peered through the small glass window of the first cell.

It was thankfully empty.

I continued moving until I reached a large room filled with glowing computer servers.

Sitting perfectly center on a metal desk was Audrey’s cell phone.

The screen was brightly illuminated, completely untouched.

I picked it up and saw a video file paused on the screen.

I pressed play, praying to hear her voice.

The video showed Arthur Thorne sitting in his luxurious office.

He was speaking directly into the camera with a sickening smile.

"If you are watching this, David, you have finally found the basement."

Arthur took a slow sip of bourbon on the screen.

"Did you really think it was a coincidence that you met my son?" he asked the camera.

"Did you think your wife's cancer was just a random tragedy?"

My blood ran completely cold.

"We needed a skilled mechanic to modify our smuggling vehicles," Arthur explained smoothly.

"And a grieving widow with a teenage daughter is so incredibly easy to manipulate."

He looked directly into the lens.

"We gave your wife the poison, David, and we paid the doctors to call it natural causes."

I crushed the phone in my bare hand until the glass completely shattered.

A slow, mocking clap echoed from the dark corner of the server room.

“Which daughter is yours?” should have been a harmless question

The first wineglass shattered at 8:07 p.m

The moment the mafia boss’s wife called me “an illiterate servant,”

Arthur Thorne stepped out of the shadows, holding a remote control.

"I always loved watching your pathetic, tragic little life," Arthur laughed.

Chapter 5 - The Subterranean Truth