Chapter 4 - The Threat Against Maya
Declan didn't react immediately.
That frightened me more than panic would have.
He simply stared at the message.
Then he put his phone in his pocket.
“We're moving Maya.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere they can't find her.”
I shook my head.
“They're threatening a child.”
“Yes.”
“You need protection.”
“I need information.”
“Declan.”
He looked at me.
“Why aren't you afraid?”
“I am.”
“Then why are you so calm?”
“Because panicking won't get my daughter back.”
I felt helpless.
For the first time since taking over Lynwood Freight, I understood how little power my title gave me.
A CEO could move money.
A CEO could fire people.
A CEO could control board meetings.
But a child's safety could reduce all of that to nothing.
We moved Maya to a safe house owned by a retired company security officer.
Natalie came too.
She refused to leave Maya.
The little girl sat on the couch coloring.
She had no idea adults around her were terrified.
I watched her draw.
“What's that?”
“Our family.”
She held up the picture.
There were four people.
Maya.
Declan.
Me.
Natalie.
I smiled.
“You put me in the picture?”
“You helped Daddy.”
“With what?”
“The rain.”
I looked at Declan.
He didn't answer.
“What does that mean?”
Maya shrugged.
“Daddy said you were trying to make things right.”
I felt tears sting my eyes.
Declan looked embarrassed.
“She's a terrible secret keeper.”
Maya grinned.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Then the safe house alarm sounded.
Declan grabbed Maya.
“Down!”
A window shattered.
I dropped to the floor.
Natalie pulled me behind the couch.
Security returned fire from the hallway.
After thirty terrifying seconds, the shooting stopped.
Maya was crying.
Declan held her tightly.
“No one is taking you.”
The words were steady.
Even though his hands were shaking.
I looked at him.
He had become something else in my eyes.
Not an employee.
Not a problem.
A father protecting the only person he had left.
The attackers escaped.
But they left one thing behind.
A black envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my father.
Taken outside the rehabilitation center that morning.
On the back was written:
Stop investigating.
Or the girl pays.
I showed it to Declan.
He stared.
“We're close.”
“How do you know?”
“Because people don't threaten you when they feel safe.”
I called the police.
The investigation began.
But the police chief assigned to the case surprised me.
Chief Brennan.
He was one of my father's oldest friends.
He told us to stop.
“Let us handle this.”
I wanted to trust him.
Then Declan asked one question.
“How did the attackers know about the safe house?”
Brennan frowned.
“That's under investigation.”
“Who knew the address?”
Brennan hesitated.
“Only your family and company security.”
Declan looked at me.
My stomach dropped.
There was a leak.
Inside Lynwood.
We quietly checked security records.
The same employee had accessed the safe house information three times.
Eli Brooks.
The systems manager.
But when we confronted him, he denied everything.
Declan asked to see his computer.
Eli refused.
I suspended him.
That night, he disappeared.
His apartment was empty.
His phone destroyed.
His car abandoned.
Someone had scared him into running.
The following morning, Vaughn requested an emergency board meeting.
He claimed I was endangering the company.
He presented financial losses.
Security expenses.
Lost clients.
Operational disruptions.
Then he proposed a vote.
The board could remove me as CEO.
I looked around the table.
Seven members.
Four had been appointed by my father.
Three were loyal to Vaughn.
I suddenly remembered my father's notebook.
Vaughn knows.
The vote began.
Before I could defend myself, the conference room doors opened.
Declan walked in.
He placed a folder on the table.
“I think everyone should see this.”
Vaughn stood.
“You have no authority here.”
Declan smiled.
“Neither did the person who accessed your private accounts last Tuesday.”
He opened the folder.
Bank transfers.
Shell companies.
Invoices.
Payments.
Millions of dollars moved out of Lynwood Freight over three years.
I stared at the numbers.
“Vaughn.”
He looked at me.
“This is forged.”
Declan placed another paper beside it.
“Then explain this.”
A photograph.
Vaughn meeting a man at a warehouse.
The same warehouse used in the Charleston shipment.
And beside the photograph was a time stamp.
Two hours before the accident report was altered six years ago.
I looked at Vaughn.
“What did you do?”
His smile disappeared.
Then he said something that made the entire board freeze.
“Your father was supposed to sell me the company.”
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“He refused.”
