Chapter 7 - The Unburied PastDavid’s breath hitched in his throat. He stared at the face of the man through the crack in the door—a face that mirrored Elena’s sharp cheekbones and icy stare, yet carried a rugged, dangerous edge that belonged to the underworld.

"Julian," David whispered, the name slipping out before he could stop it.

The man on the porch offered a slow, chilling smile that didn't reach his eyes. He reached out with gloved fingers, pushed the heavy oak door firmly against the security chain until it strained, and slid the manila envelope through the gap. It fluttered down onto the hardwood foyer floor.

"Hello, brother-in-law," Julian’s raspy voice grated like gravel over concrete. "Did you really think Elena was an only child? Did you really think she built that criminal network all by herself?"

David’s hand gripped the edge of the door until his knuckles turned white. "If you take one step closer to this house, I will call the police right now. Your sister is already facing twenty-five years. You want to join her?"

Julian let out a low, dark chuckle.

"The cops? David, honey—excuse me, brother—the police are looking in the wrong direction. Elena was just the amateur playing dress-up in the suburbs. I’m the one who taught her how to build a fortress of lies."

Julian leaned in close to the peephole, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"She protected you from me for ten years, David. She kept you safe in your little corporate bubble because she wanted to play house. But now that my favorite sister is locked in a cage because of you and that brat upstairs... the debt has to be paid."

"Get off my property," David snarled, his voice vibrating with suppressed fury.

"I'm leaving," Julian said smoothly, stepping back off the porch and pulling the brim of his fedora down over his eyes. "But keep that envelope open, David. Read every single word. Because what's inside isn't just a threat—it's a countdown. You have forty-eight hours to drop all charges against Elena and hand over half your assets to my offshore account... or you won't even live to see Sophie's next birthday."

With that, Julian turned around, walked down the driveway, and vanished into the morning fog as silently as a ghost.

David stood frozen for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he knelt down, picked up the heavy manila envelope, and tore it open.

Inside wasn't just a letter.

It was a flash drive and a stack of glossy photographs. David pulled out the top photo, and his blood turned instantly to ice water.

May you like

"No," Roman said, his voice dropping an octave as he stared out the floo...

The silence in the CrossTech laboratory was absolute, save for the rhyth...

Elena did not tear the earbuds from her ears. She did not smash the phon...

It was a picture of Sophie playing in the backyard yesterday afternoon—taken from a telephoto lens hidden deep within the treeline behind their fence. And attached to the photo was a handwritten note:

Tick-tock, David. We know where she sleeps.