Chapter 9 - Her Parents Receive the Emergency Call in Boston
Back in Boston, my father sat in his executive home office reviewing construction bids before sunrise.
His private satellite phone rang loudly on the mahogany desk, shattering the quiet morning atmosphere.
He snatched the receiver on the second ring, his heart skipping a beat as he recognized the secure prefix.
“Dad, it’s Elena... I’m safe, but you need to send federal marshals to the North End docks immediately,” I said.
My father gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned stark white against the wood.
“What happened? Are you hurt? Where is Graham?” he demanded, his voice thick with sudden panic.
“Graham tried to kill me four miles off the coast, and his parents were part of the syndicate,” I explained.
A heavy, terrifying silence hung over the phone line for three full seconds before my father spoke again.
“Stay on the secure channel, sweetheart; marshals are already rolling toward the harbor as we speak,” he vowed.
He slammed his office door open, barking orders to his security detail with the fierce authority of a patriarch.
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Nobody touches a member of our family and gets away with it, least of all a gold-digger in a tailored suit.
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