Chapter 12 - The Syndicate's Shadow
Returning to Stanford, I try to force myself into the rhythm of a normal college student.
I attend lectures on macroeconomics, drink overpriced lattes in the quad, and study late into the night.
But the paranoia is entirely suffocating.
Every time a black SUV drives past my dorm, my heart hammers against my ribs.
Every time a stranger looks at me for a second too long, I brace myself for an attack.
Despite the FBI's assurances that the syndicate was dismantled, I know better.
A multi-billion-dollar empire does not just vanish because two men are put behind bars.
The roots go much deeper.
During my third week of classes, I meet Liam.
He is a teaching assistant in my advanced computer science seminar.
He is effortlessly charming, with messy brown hair and a sharp intellect that immediately catches my attention.
He stays after class to help me debug a complex string of code, and we end up talking for three hours.
For the first time in months, I feel a genuine connection with someone who has no idea about my traumatic past.
But my brief illusion of safety shatters on a rainy Tuesday evening.
I return to my dorm room after a late study session and immediately notice the door is slightly ajar.
I freeze, the cold rain dripping from my jacket.
I push the door open gently.
The room has been completely tossed.
My mattress is flipped, my drawers are emptied onto the floor, and my closet is torn apart.
Panic rises in my throat as I rush to my desk.
But the most terrifying part is what is not missing.
My expensive laptop, my tablet, and my jewelry box are completely untouched.
It was not a random robbery. Someone was looking for something specific.
I frantically dig through my scattered belongings, trying to figure out what they wanted.
Then, I remember the trust fund documents.
I had hidden the thick envelope in a false bottom of my heavy winter suitcase.
I pull the suitcase from the wreckage and rip the lining open.
The envelope is still there.
I pull out the legal documents, my hands shaking violently.
I run my fingers over the thick leather binding of the folder.
There is a strange, hard lump near the spine.
I grab a pair of scissors and carefully slice the leather open.
May you like
A tiny, encrypted titanium USB drive falls into the palm of my hand.
Daniel Pierce didn't just leave me money. He left me his secrets.
