Chapter 18 - The Trap Springs
Three days later, Aiden was scheduled to deliver a keynote speech at the annual Global Tech and Ethics Summit held at the convention center downtown. It was a massive public event, broadcasting live to millions across the country—the very culmination of Aiden's efforts to reform his company’s image.
Darra sat in the VIP green room backstage, watching the live monitor as Aiden took the podium to thunderous applause. He looked sharp, confident, and utterly untouchable in his dark tailored suit.
Yet, Darra’s stomach twisted in knots. The warning phone call from earlier in the week echoed relentlessly in her mind.
Knock. Knock.
The dressing room door swung open. A young courier in a gray postal uniform stepped inside, holding a heavy manila envelope.
"Delivery for Ms. Whitmore," the courier muttered, keeping his head down beneath the brim of his cap. "Urgent security dispatch."
Darra frowned, stepping forward. "Who sent this?"
"Sign here," the courier said gruffly, thrusting a clipboard toward her.
As Darra signed her name, the courier dropped the manila envelope onto the table and vanished out the door before she could ask another question. Hesitantly, Darra picked up the envelope and tore it open.
Inside slid a single sheet of glossy photographic paper.
May you like
Darra’s breath caught in her throat. The photograph showed Chloe sitting in the Ashworth estate playroom, eating breakfast—taken from a telephoto lens hidden outside the window. Across the bottom of the photo, block letters were scrawled in black marker:
YOUR TURN TO CHOOSE, DARRA. THE PENTHOUSE OR THE CHILD.
