Chapter 3: The Price of Empathy
"Why?" Sarah managed to gasp, her hands gripping the counter so hard her knuckles turned bloodless.
"The man you married, Thomas," the woman replied, setting the empty mug down. "He didn't just 'walk out' on you three years ago. He took something that didn't belong to him. A ledger. A list of names that makes empires fall. He’s been in hiding, but he left a trail of breadcrumbs. You are the only person he ever loved."
May you like
Sarah felt a surge of nausea. Thomas had been a quiet accountant, a man who loved crosswords and burned his toast. Or so she had thought.
"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it at the bus stop this morning," the woman continued, leaning in close. The smell of decay was gone, replaced by the sharp, metallic scent of gun oil. "I don't want you dead. I want him. And you are going to call him. You’re going to tell him that if he doesn't bring that ledger to the abandoned shipyard by midnight, your little girl will be the subject of my next photograph."
