Chapter 3 - Into the NightThe night air hit my face like a splash of freezing water as the stranger—who introduced himself only as Marcus—half-carried, half-dragged me out through the shattered glass of the guest room's French doors onto the flat roof of the patio, and down an aluminum ladder he had already secured against the side of the house.
Sirens wailed in the distance, red and blue lights flashing frantically against the dark tree line. Fire trucks were finally turning onto our quiet suburban street.
Marcus set me down gently on the damp grass of the front lawn, far enough from the blazing inferno that I could finally take a deep, smoke-free breath. My left leg throbbed with a dull, sickening agony, and my trousers were torn and charred around the knee, but I was alive.
Across the lawn, a small crowd of neighbors had gathered in their pajamas. And right in the center of them stood Vanessa and Grant.
Grant was clutching a heavy, fire-proof metal safe to his chest like a newborn child, while Vanessa held a shivering Baxter on a diamond-studded leash. They looked distressed—not because I had nearly burned to death, but because the neighborhood was watching them.
When Vanessa turned and saw me emerging from the smoke-filled perimeter supported by a rugged stranger, the color drained completely from her face. The phone she was holding slipped from her fingers and hit the grass with a muffled thud.
"Dad?" she whispered, her voice trembling—though whether from shock or sheer terror, I couldn't tell. "You... you got out?"
Grant dropped the safe onto the grass with a heavy thud, his eyes bulging as he stared at me. "How? The beam came down right on top of you. We... we thought..."
"You thought I was dead," I finished for him, my voice cracking with a cold fury I hadn't felt in decades. I pulled myself upright, leaning heavily on Marcus’s shoulder. "You left me to burn, Grant. You looked me in the eye and left me to die."
"That's a lie!" Vanessa shrieked, instantly switching into defense mode as a few neighbors turned their heads to stare. "Dad, the smoke was blinding us! We panicked! We thought you were right behind us!"
"You called me useless," I said, stepping forward, every inch of my body aching, yet fueled by an adrenaline-fueled clarity. "You said the old man is useless now. And then you grabbed the safe and ran."
Before Vanessa could invent another lie, a sleek, unmarked black sedan pulled up behind the flashing fire trucks. The door swung open, and a tall woman in a sharp charcoal suit stepped out, holding a thick manila folder. She didn't look at the burning house. She looked straight at Grant.
"Grant Miller?" she called out, her voice cutting cleanly through the noise of the sirens.
May you like
Grant froze, clutching his chest. "Y-yes? Who are you?"
The woman flashed an official badge. "Special Agent Vance, Federal Bureau of Investigation. You and your wife are coming with us. The digital assets in that safe, and the shell corporations you've been running under your father-in-law's name, have just been flagged."
