Chapter 2 - The Ghost’s Blueprint
I spent the next forty-eight hours locked inside Bay 15, sleeping in the backseat of the Mustang and surviving on protein bars and adrenaline.
The laptop was a treasure trove of damning evidence, but it was heavily encrypted. My father had left me access to a shadow account holding exactly two hundred thousand dollars, but the actual proof of Evelyn’s embezzlement and my innocence was locked behind a multi-tier firewall.
I needed help.
On the third day, a burner phone resting in the glove compartment of the Mustang began to buzz.
I stared at it. Nobody knew I was here.
I answered, keeping my voice low. "Hello?"
"Did you find the Mustang, Julian?" a woman’s voice asked. It was sharp, professional, and entirely unfamiliar.
"Who is this?" I demanded.
"My name is Sloane. I’m the forensic accountant your father hired two years ago. I helped him fake his medical records. He told me that when you got out, you'd find the warehouse. We don't have much time."
"Time for what?"
"Preston," Sloane said. "He’s driving Sterling Enterprises into the ground. Tomorrow night, he and Evelyn are hosting a charity gala at the downtown Ritz. But it’s a front. They are signing the final paperwork to sell your father’s company to a shell corporation they own. Once they liquidate the assets, they’re fleeing to a non-extradition country. We need to stop that sale."
My blood boiled. Preston, the gambling addict who had laughed in my face on the front porch, was about to walk away with my father's legacy.
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"How do we stop it?" I asked, my voice turning to ice.
"By rattling their cage," Sloane replied. "I have a tailored tuxedo waiting for you at the address I just texted. Get cleaned up, Julian. You’re going to a party."
