Chapter 4 - The Sins of the Father
I realized then that my father hadn't just lost a lawsuit; he had lost his life insurance policy. Without this ledger to trade back to the syndicate, he was a dead man walking.
I made a cup of black coffee and sat at the kitchen island, staring at the ledger. Part of me—the daughter who remembered a time when Silas used to read me bedtime stories—felt a twinge of pity. But the operative in me, the woman who had survived interrogations in black sites, knew better. Mercy to a snake only gets you bitten.
My burner phone vibrated on the marble counter.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Maya," Silas’s voice crackled through the speaker. He didn't sound angry anymore. He sounded terrified, his voice thin and reedy. "Did you find it?"
"Find what, Silas?" I played dumb, taking a slow sip of my coffee.
"Don't play games with me! The ledger in the basement! Maya, you don't understand who I'm dealing with. If I don't give them that book by Friday, they're going to kill me. They'll kill Caleb too."
"You dragged my name through the mud," I said, my voice ice-cold. "You tried to have me committed to a psychiatric ward. You tried to steal everything I had."
"I was desperate!" he pleaded, breaking down into ragged sobs. "Please, Maya. I'm your father."
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"You lost the right to call yourself that the moment you perjured yourself on that stand," I replied. "Do not call this number again."
I hung up, snapped the burner phone in half, and tossed it into the trash. The game had just escalated, and I needed to prepare the battlefield.
