Chapter 3 - THE GHOST IN THE SYSTEM
The morning light began to creep into the hospital room,
a pale gray that offered no warmth.
I sat upright,
my body aching from the bruises Derek had left behind.
Elena was on the phone,
her voice a low murmur as she coordinated with the District Attorney.
I was back on the server,
watching the digital shadows move.
Derek was frantic now.
He had tried to transfer five hundred thousand dollars to an offshore account in the Caymans.
The "Frozen" status appeared in a bright red box on my screen.
I saw him refresh the page.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
He slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk in the video feed.
"Marlene!"
he screamed,
his voice echoing through my father's house.
"The accounts are locked!"
Marlene rushed in,
her silk robe fluttering like the wings of a vulture.
"What do you mean locked?"
she hissed.
"Check the backup!"
"I did!"
Derek roared.
"Everything is grayed out."
"It says 'Pending Audit'."
I smiled,
though it made the split in my lip sting.
"Audit,"
I whispered to the empty room.
"The most beautiful word in the English language."
They were trapped in a cage of their own greed.
They needed the investor money from the 8:00 a.m. meeting to cover the holes they had dug.
If the Emerald Heights deal didn't go through,
the bank would seize the construction company by noon.
They were desperate.
And desperate people make mistakes.
"Cassie,"
Elena said,
turning back to me.
"The DA is ready."
"They have the forgery evidence from the forensic lab."
"The signature on the voting control document is a 99% match for a digital copy of your father’s."
"It’s a blatant cut-and-paste job."
I nodded,
my eyes never leaving the screen.
"He thought he was clever,"
"but he never understood the digital paper trail."
"He thought he was erasing history,"
"but he was just highlighting his crimes."
I watched Derek pick up his phone.
He was calling his "fixer,"
a man named Saul who handled their dirty work.
But I had already intercepted Saul’s messages.
Saul wouldn't be answering.
Saul was currently in a windowless room talking to the FBI.
Derek’s face went pale as the call went to voicemail.
He looked at Marlene.
"We have to get the signatures from the investors,"
he said,
his voice trembling.
"Once we have their check,"
"we can bypass the internal audit with a bridge loan."
Marlene nodded,
her eyes cold and hard.
"Dress up,"
she ordered.
"Don't let them see you sweating."
"And if anyone asks about that bitch Cassie,"
"tell them she's at a retreat in Sedona."
"Tell them she's 'finding herself'."
I felt a surge of cold fury.
They were still lying.
They were still treating me like a ghost they could banish with a sentence.
But I wasn't in Sedona.
I was in their system.
I was the ghost in their machine.
I reached out and triggered the next phase.
I sent a notification to the investors' phones.
It looked like a routine update from the company’s legal department.
It contained a link to a "secure portal" for the meeting documents.
But the link didn't go to the contract.
It went to a folder labeled "The Truth."
I watched the clock.
7:15 a.m.
The stage was set.
May you like
The actors were in place.
And I was the director of the final act.
