Chapter 3 - The Silent Infiltration
The next week was a blur of tactical training and digital warfare.
I spent eighteen hours a day at the computer.
I drained Sebastian’s private accounts, moving the money to untraceable offshore shells.
I didn't take it for myself.
I moved it into a fund for the families of workers he had laid off.
I watched through the security cameras of our home.
He was already sleeping in our bed with another woman.
A woman I recognized from his office.
The betrayal went deeper than I had ever imagined.
"He's comfortable," Lucia noted, watching the feed.
"A comfortable man is a careless man."
"He hasn't checked the perimeter of the estate in three days."
"He thinks he won."
I looked at the dress Lucia had procured for me.
It was a flowing, midnight-blue silk.
It was designed to hide the bump, but also to hide the tactical gear underneath.
I practiced walking in it, despite the ache in my back.
My son—I knew it was a boy now—was heavy.
He seemed to know that his mother was going to war.
"The gala starts at eight," Lucia said.
"The red carpet is heavily guarded."
"But the catering entrance is handled by a third-party company."
"A company I just happens to own a part of."
We spent the final night checking the evidence.
I had the audio recordings of Sebastian and Evelyn discussing the "accident."
I had the records of the tampered parachute.
I had the digital trail of the illegal sale of Nebula tech.
It was enough to put them away for three lifetimes.
But I didn't want them in a cell yet.
I wanted them to feel the terror I felt when I was falling.
"Val," Lucia said, her voice unusually soft.
"If this goes wrong... I’ll make sure the baby is safe."
I took her hand.
"It won't go wrong."
"I've been calculating the odds for three years."
"The one variable Sebastian never accounted for was me."
We left the safe house at midnight.
The drive to San Francisco was a journey through the shadows.
The city lights looked like a distant dream.
I was a dead woman traveling through a living world.
As we approached the venue, my heart hammered against my ribs.
Thump-thump-thump.
It matched the heartbeat of my son.
"Ready?" Lucia asked.
I adjusted the red handle hidden in the folds of my dress.
It wasn't for a parachute this time.
It was for the truth.
May you like
"Let's go," I said.
***
