Chapter 7 - The Mole and the Mastermind
The trial was set to begin in exactly one month. The District Attorney, a sharp, unyielding woman named Elena Rostova, had built an impenetrable case. Or so we thought.
One evening, while reviewing the witness list in my father's study, I noticed a discrepancy in the timelines the defense had submitted. They knew things about my daily routine—things that only someone inside our safehouse could know.
"Dad," I said, my blood running cold. "They have someone inside. Someone here is feeding Santiago information."
My father’s eyes narrowed. He didn't shout. He didn't panic. He simply initiated a lockdown. He brought in an independent counter-surveillance team to sweep the house and audit the communications of every guard, maid, and driver.
It took two days.
The mole was Marcus, one of the newer attorneys on our legal team. He had massive gambling debts, and Santiago had promised him a payout from a hidden offshore account if he could provide information to discredit my testimony.
Instead of firing Marcus, my father and I devised a trap.
We fed Marcus false information. We let him overhear a staged conversation where I tearfully "confessed" to my father that some of the audio recordings were digitally altered. We knew Marcus would run straight to Santiago's defense team with this golden nugget.
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When the trial began, Santiago’s lawyers were going to walk right into a perjury trap, banking their entire defense on a lie we had hand-delivered to them.
I was no longer just a survivor. I was playing the game, and I was playing to win.
