CHAPTER 4 — The Woman Who Remembered Every Number
The slap echoed through the apartment long after Merritt walked away.
Tova remained on the floor, one hand pressed against her cheek, the other gripping the business card Alaric had slipped into her apron.
You are not the one who should be afraid anymore.
She wanted to believe it.
But hope had become dangerous.
Hope was what got people hurt.
The following morning, Merritt acted like nothing had happened.
He made coffee.
Kissed her forehead.
Asked if she wanted pancakes.
Anyone looking through the apartment window would have seen a devoted husband.
The moment he left for work, Tova opened the kitchen cabinet and removed an old recipe book.
Hidden inside were dozens of tiny scraps of paper.
Numbers.
Inspection permit codes.
Shipping invoices.
Bank routing numbers.
Charity donations.
She had never intended to become a witness.
She had simply survived the only way she knew how.
By remembering everything.
Every forged signature.
Every fake invoice.
Every payment Merritt thought she never noticed.
As a forensic accountant, numbers stayed inside her mind forever.
She whispered to herself,
"If I die...someone has to know."
Across Baltimore Harbor...
Tamash watched surveillance footage frame by frame.
"Boss..."
Alaric looked up.
"The husband isn't just violent."
Tamash slid several photographs across the desk.
"He launders money."
Alaric examined them quietly.
Millions of dollars passed through nonprofit organizations before disappearing into shell companies tied to the Port Authority.
Government inspectors.
Union leaders.
Shipping executives.
Everyone received payments.
Then Tamash revealed something worse.
"Merritt isn't the mastermind."
Alaric's eyes narrowed.
"He's working for someone."
Silence filled the office.
That changed everything.
That evening...
Tova found something hidden beneath the passenger seat of Merritt's SUV while cleaning.
A disposable phone.
It buzzed.
One message appeared.
Warehouse 18. Friday. Bring the inspection reports. No mistakes.
No sender.
No name.
Only a black skull emoji.
She copied the number into memory before placing the phone exactly where she'd found it.
She had just stumbled into something far larger than domestic abuse.
She didn't realize someone else had been watching her from across the parking lot.
May you like
Tamash lowered his camera.
The frightened waitress had just become the most valuable witness in Baltimore.
