Chapter 4 - The Shadow Assets
By 3:00 AM, the hotel room felt like a command center.
My parents were asleep, exhausted by the trauma.
I sat by the window, watching the street.
A black SUV pulled into the lot.
Two men in dark suits stepped out.
They didn't look like thugs.
They looked like accountants who went to the gym six days a week.
These were the men my employer used when "logistics" became complicated.
They were former Mossad and CIA contractors.
I met them in the hallway.
"Mrs. Thorne," the lead man said. "Mr. Vance sends his regards."
"What do you need?"
"I need my life back," I said.
"I need the man who stole it to be erased."
"And I need the woman who took my place to feel the hunger my parents felt."
The man, whose name was Elias, nodded.
"We've already run a trace on the photograph."
"It wasn't a studio. It was the basement of the 'White House' you've been paying for."
"Donald has a high-frequency transmitter there."
"He’s been spoofing your location to make it seem like your messages are reaching him in Miami."
"He’s also been laundering your $35,000 through a series of shell companies."
"Most of it goes to Big Mike’s gambling debts."
I felt a surge of cold fury.
"Where is Donald now?"
"He’s at a club downtown with Ashley," Elias said.
"They’re celebrating. He thinks you're stuck in this hotel and that Big Mike’s men have you boxed in."
"He doesn't know we've already neutralized the two men in the lobby."
I looked down at the lobby.
The two "lookouts" Donald had sent were being loaded into a van.
Quietly. Efficiently.
"Take me to the house," I said.
"I want to see the marble I paid for."
"I want to see the garden."
"And I want to be waiting in the living room when he gets home."
We moved through the night like ghosts.
As we drove toward the suburbs, I looked at the bank records Elias had provided.
Donald had spent $400,000 on a yacht.
$200,000 on jewelry for Ashley.
$100,000 on a car for his mother, Brenda.
He had spent exactly zero dollars on my son’s medical care.
We pulled up to the colonial house.
It was beautiful.
It was exactly as the photos had shown, but seeing it in person made me sick.
It was a monument to betrayal.
Elias bypassed the security system in seconds.
We walked inside.
The smell of expensive perfume—Ashley’s—was everywhere.
I walked into the kitchen.
The Italian marble was cold and white, like a tombstone.
I sat at the head of the oak table.
The same table where my parents had been forced to pose for a fake dinner.
"Elias," I said. "Call the bank."
"Freeze every account associated with the shell companies."
"And then, call the police. Tell them there’s a massive drug cache in the guest house."
"Is there?" Elias asked.
"There will be by the time they arrive," I replied.
I checked my watch.
4:15 AM.
The headlights of a sports car swept across the living room walls.
May you like
The king of the castle was home.
***
