Chapter 3 - THE NEST OF HORNETS
Inside the dark apartment, the silence was deafening.
William kept his shoulder pressed against the splintered door, his heart hammering against his ribs. Through the peephole, he watched the shadowy figures of two men in tactical gear walk slowly down the hallway, their pistols raised. They paused at the elevator, murmured something into their earpieces, and then headed down the emergency stairwell toward the lobby.
William let out a slow, silent breath. He turned around to face the apartment.
The room was dark, smelling faintly of old paper, lavender soap, and copper.
"Is... is anyone home?" Emma whispered, her voice trembling as she took Noah back from William’s arms.
William reached for the light switch on the wall and flipped it.
The room was bathed in a dull, flickering yellow light. It was a modest, slightly messy apartment, but what caught William’s eye was the wall directly opposite them.
It was covered in newspaper clippings.
Dozens of them.
And every single clipping featured his own face.
“Parker Industries Set to Launch Global Security Network.” “William Parker: The Cold Prince of Wall Street.” “Tragedy Strikes Parker Family: Patriarch Arthur Parker Dies in Mysterious Car Crash.”
William stepped closer to the wall, his eyes wide. This wasn't a random apartment. He looked at the desk below the clippings. There were printed emails, surveillance photographs of him entering his office, and a detailed map of his daily route to work.
"What is this?" Emma whispered, looking at the wall in horror. "Why do they have pictures of you?"
Before William could answer, a soft, dry cough echoed from the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms.
William instantly drew his pocket knife, stepping in front of Emma. "Who’s there? Show yourself!"
A figure slowly emerged from the shadows.
It was an elderly woman, her breathing labored, clutching a worn woolen shawl around her shoulders. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide with a mixture of terror and shock.
"Grandma!" Emma cried, rushing past William.
But William caught Emma by the arm, pulling her back. "Wait, Emma. Look at her."
Emma looked at her grandmother, then at the wall of clippings, and back again. "Grandma? What is all this? Why do you have pictures of Mr. Parker?"
Martha Reynolds looked at William. Her lips trembled. A tear slipped down her weathered cheek, disappearing into the deep wrinkles of her face.
"I knew they would come for you eventually, William," Martha whispered, her voice cracking. "But I never thought they would bring you to my door."
William’s brow furrowed. "Who are you? How do you know my name? Why have you been tracking me?"
Martha took a slow, painful step forward, leaning against the wall for support. "I wasn't tracking you to hurt you, William. I was tracking you to protect you. Because twenty-five years ago... I was your mother's closest friend. And I know the truth about how your father died."
William felt as if the floor had suddenly dropped out beneath him. "My father died in a car accident. It was a mechanical failure."
"That is the lie your stepmother, Evelyn, and her son, Julian, sold to the world," Martha said, her voice growing stronger with sudden conviction. "Your father discovered that Evelyn was funneling money to a shell corporation in the Caymans. He was going to divorce her and write Julian out of the will. The night he died, he was coming to see me. He had a ledger. A physical ledger containing all the proof."
Martha walked to the desk, opened a bottom drawer, and pulled out a dusty, leather-bound book. She held it out to William.
"Your father’s security team was compromised," Martha explained. "He knew he couldn't trust anyone in his inner circle. So he left the ledger with me. The next day, his car went over the bridge. I went into hiding. I changed my name. But I never stopped watching you, William. I knew that once you took over the company, Julian would try to destroy you, just like he destroyed his father."
William took the ledger, his hands shaking slightly. He opened it. The handwriting was unmistakable. It was his father’s sharp, precise script. Page after page of bank transactions, wire transfers, and signatures—all pointing to Evelyn and Julian Parker.
"Why didn't you go to the police?" William asked, his voice thick with emotion.
"I tried," Martha said, a bitter smile touching her lips. "But twenty-five years ago, the police in this city were bought and paid for by the Parkers. The moment I made a report, my apartment was firebombed. I barely escaped with my life. I realized the only way to keep myself—and eventually Emma—safe was to disappear into the shadows."
Suddenly, the silence of the apartment was shattered by the sound of glass breaking in the kitchen.
William spun around.
From the kitchen window, which connected to the fire escape, a smoke grenade bounced onto the linoleum floor.
Psssshhhhhh.
Thick, acrid gray smoke began to fill the apartment.
"They found us!" William yelled, coughing as the smoke hit his lungs. "We have to get out!"
"Grandma!" Emma screamed as Martha collapsed to her knees, coughing violently. Her weak heart couldn't handle the thick smoke.
Through the haze, William saw the silhouette of a man climbing through the kitchen window.
It was Julian.
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He was holding a submachine gun, a cruel, triumphant smile plastered across his face.
"Well, well, well," Julian’s voice echoed through the smoke. "The prodigal son and his little street rat friends. End of the line, William. Give me the ledger, and maybe I'll let the baby live."
