Chapter 23 - The Unmarked Envelope
Deep within the federal penitentiary housing block, Evelyn Vance sat in her new protective custody cell reading a legal brief.
A correctional officer slid a small, unmarked brown envelope through the slot in her heavy steel door.
Evelyn picked it up cautiously, tearing open the paper flap to find a single photograph and a handwritten index card.
The photograph showed the outside of her old suburban childhood home, pristine and untouched by the federal investigations.
The index card contained a single chilling sentence written in block capital letters: "The house looks lovely, Evelyn—pity nobody lives there anymore."
Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized the syndicate's tentacles reached even inside the highest-security federal facilities.
She dropped the photo onto the concrete floor, her hands trembling uncontrollably as cold sweat beaded on her neck.
She pressed the emergency intercom button on her cell wall, screaming for the guard to let her speak with Detective Miller immediately.
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The illusion of absolute safety shattered instantly, proving that remnants of the shadow network were still watching her every move.
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