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The apartment was deathly quiet after the front door clicked shut. My mother’s venomous parting words still hung in the air, but they were nothing compared to the cold weight settling in my chest. Savannah was in our bedroom, the door closed, likely curled up in the dark. / Chapter 5 / 20

Chapter 5 - The Trap is Set

The digital clock on the dashboard read 2:14 AM.

We were parked three blocks away from the neon-lit diner where my mother was still plotting her next move with Victor Vance. Through the tinted windows of our armored SUV, I watched the diner’s entrance.

"Are you sure about this, Savannah?" I asked, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. "If Vance is as dangerous as your dossier says, confronting him could put you and the baby at risk."

"I’m not confronting him," Savannah said, tapping away on a secure satellite laptop. "You are."

I turned to stare at her. "Me? Doing what?"

"You’re going to walk into that diner, sit at their booth, and hand Bernice a briefcase," she instructed, her voice steady and absolute.

"A briefcase with what inside? I don't have a million dollars in cash!"

"You don't need cash. You need flash paper and a tracking beacon," she replied, sliding a sleek metal briefcase from the back seat. "Inside is a high-grade military tracker and a burner phone pre-programmed to record every word they say. When you hand it to her, tell her it's the first installment, and that the rest is conditional on her signing a full non-disclosure and liability waiver."

"And if she refuses?"

"She won't refuse," Savannah said coldly. "Greed is her primary operating system. When she sees the briefcase, she’ll think she won. She’ll take the bait and lead us straight to her primary stash house—the place where she keeps the physical copies of Richard’s fake kickback documents."

I took a deep breath, feeling the cold weight of the metal handle. This was insane. I was conspiring against my own mother with a wife I barely realized I knew. But as I looked at the fading bruise on Savannah's cheek, all hesitation evaporated.

"I'll do it," I said.

I stepped out into the chilly San Diego night air, the wind whipping off the Pacific. I walked the three blocks with my heart pounding in my throat, pushing open the heavy glass door of the diner. The smell of cheap grease and stale coffee hit me instantly.

In the back corner booth sat my mother, huddled over a stack of manila folders with a rough-looking man wearing a leather jacket and dark sunglasses.

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I stepped past the door frame, my leather shoes clicking softly against the linoleum floor.

I stepped past the door frame, my leather shoes clicking softly against...

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the freezing slate beneath my spine. The blinding white vortex of snow kicked up by the downdraft burned my eyes, but I forced my lids open, locking my gaze onto the amber visor of the rescue specialist dropping out of the sky.

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the...

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking against the pristine hospital linoleum. He reached for the tray table, his fingers brushing the edge of the papers. His voice was low, coated in a practiced, corporate calm that made my stomach churn worse than the spiked blood pressure.

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking agai...

As I approached the booth, Bernice looked up. Her eyes widened in shock, then shifted into a smug, triumphant smirk.

"Well, well," Bernice sneered, leaning back against the vinyl cushions. "Look who finally decided to come to his senses. Sit down, Christopher. Let’s talk numbers."

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