Chapter 3 - The Secret Transmission
The following week was a blur of calculated deception. I spent hours in Ethan’s room, pretending to be a bored, aimless wife, while under the covers, I whispered the reality of the estate's finances to him. He was a genius; he had been for years. He knew the passwords, the offshore accounts, and the hidden safety nets that Jason didn't know existed.
"He's moving the liquidity," Ethan whispered on the third night, his voice stronger. "He's emptying the accounts to cover his own gambling debts in Macau. If he succeeds, the Thornton empire will be bankrupt by the end of the month."
"How do we stop it?" I asked, holding his hand.
"There's a backup server," he said. "It's hidden in the study, behind the portrait of my grandfather. It’s an air-gapped system. If we can upload the logs of Jason’s illegal transfers to the SEC's secure portal, he’ll be arrested before he can touch another cent."
"I’ll get to the study," I said. "But how do I get past the security? Jason has guards at the door."
"He leaves the house at 11:00 PM every night for his private club," Ethan said. "You have to go then. But Claire... if he catches you, he won't hesitate. He’s already killed once to get this close."
My heart hammered against my ribs, but there was no turning back. That night, at exactly 11:00 PM, I heard the roar of Jason's sports car fading into the distance. I grabbed a small flashlight and slipped into the hallway, my heart pounding in my ears.
The house was a labyrinth of shadows. I reached the study and felt the cold marble of the fireplace mantel, searching for the hidden catch Ethan had described. My fingers brushed a small, carved leaf on the frame of the portrait. Click.
The portrait swung open, revealing a small, glowing terminal. I plugged in the drive Ethan had given me, my fingers shaking as the lines of code began to scroll across the screen. I was seconds away from destroying Jason’s life.
Suddenly, the floorboards behind me creaked.
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"Looking for something, Claire?"
I froze. I spun around to see Jason standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim hall light. He wasn't at the club. He was home. And he was holding a gun.
