Chapter 4 - The Hidden Office
I dropped the phone and locked my car doors in absolute panic.
I scanned the dark street but saw only empty sidewalks and swaying trees.
The burner phone screen went black.
I drove away so fast my tires left rubber on the pavement.
I realized I could not trust the police with this information yet.
If the cartel or syndicate was watching me, a police presence might trigger them to kill Chloe.
I needed to find the digital ledger the voice had demanded.
I parked three blocks away and sneaked back into my own house through the basement window.
I crept up the stairs in the dark and entered Mark's home office.
The police had already bagged his expensive laptop.
But Mark would never leave his most valuable leverage out in the open.
I remembered the time he spent an entire weekend fixing a loose floorboard near the bookshelf.
I grabbed a heavy flathead screwdriver from his desk drawer.
I dropped to my knees and pried the edge of the oak plank upward.
The wood snapped with a loud crack that echoed through the empty house.
Beneath the floorboard was a small metal lockbox bolted to the joist.
I smashed the lock repeatedly with the heavy handle of the screwdriver until the latch broke.
I opened the lid and felt my heart completely shatter.
Inside the box were two crisp passports wrapped in plastic.
One passport had a picture of Mark with a different name.
The other passport had a picture of Chloe with a different name.
There was no passport for me.
There was also a stack of offshore bank accounts holding millions of dollars.
Mark had been planning to run away and take my daughter with him.
He was going to leave me behind to take the fall for his criminal activities.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was a text message from the hospital nurse.
The message said Chloe was finally awake and asking for her mother.
I shoved the passports into my bag and rushed out of the house.
As I ran to my car, I realized something horrifying.
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If Mark was planning to escape tonight, the poison attack ruined his plan.
He was not the target.
