Chapter 13 - The Brother’s Dagger
I drove through a blinding snowstorm into the heart of Chicago forty-eight hours later, Maya secured safely with my trusted former nanny in a hidden safehouse outside Milwaukee.
The old marital home we had shared on Elm Street stood dark and abandoned, covered in a blanket of fresh winter snow. Memories of our eight-year marriage haunted every corner—the porch where we drank summer wine, the window where Sarah used to watch for my car late at night.
I took a crowbar from the trunk of my car, kicked down the rear door, and made my way into the master bedroom.
I tore up the hardwood floorboards beneath the master closet. Beneath the insulation lay a rusted metal lockbox stamped with the crest of my own family construction company: Miller & Sons.
I smashed the lock with the crowbar and pulled open the heavy lid.
Inside lay a stack of classified government blueprints for Project 804—a deep-underground storage bunker built beneath my company's flagship high-rise building in downtown Chicago. But beneath the blueprints was a series of wiretap recordings and bank statements dated four years ago.
The offshore accounts that had funneled money to ruin my business weren't owned by Marcus Thorne.
They were co-signed by my older brother, Frank Miller.
A heavy footstep crunched on the shattered floorboards behind me.
May you like
I spun around, crowbar raised. Standing in the doorway of the dark closet, wearing a heavy tactical coat and holding a suppressed pistol aimed directly at my chest, was Frank.
"You should have stayed in Florida, little brother," Frank said, his face cold, void of any familial warmth.
