Chapter 2: The Trembling Hand
Clara touched the bird. Her fingers brushed a seam along the side of the metal wings. It wasn't a solid ornament; it was a locket. She clicked it open. Inside wasn't a picture or a jewel, but a tiny, folded slip of paper and a flash drive.
Julian lunged forward, his mask of composure slipping. "Give me that. It’s a prank, a sick joke."
Clara pulled back, her instincts suddenly sharpening. The boy hadn't run away. He stood firm, his small fists clenched. "My dad is a mechanic, but he's not a murderer," the boy said, his voice gaining strength. "He kept the recording you made him do, mister. He knew you'd come for us next."
The ballroom suddenly felt claustrophobic. The laughter of the guests echoed like a mocking chorus. Julian looked around, eyes darting. He saw the board members approaching the center of the room, ready to sign the merger papers—the very reason he had orchestrated the accident to gain full control of Clara's shares.
"Julian," Clara said, her voice steady for the first time in months. "Why are you sweating?"
May you like
He grabbed her wheelchair, his fingers digging into her arms. "We are leaving. Now."
But they couldn't leave. The boy had blocked the path, and a security guard—one of Clara's own, whom she had hired behind Julian’s back—stepped out from the crowd. Julian realized, with a sinking horror, that he hadn't been the only one playing the long game.
