Chapter 3 - The Morning After
Inside the house on the hill, the celebration had stretched well past 3:00 a.m.
The massive living room was trashed with the remnants of an arrogant victory. Empty bottles of Dom Pérignon sat abandoned on the granite countertops. Wrapping paper from expensive luxury goods Daniel had purchased with our joint savings was scattered across the plush rug.
Daniel woke at 9:00 a.m., groggy from champagne and adrenaline, feeling like a conquering king. For months, the anxiety of living a double life had pressed against his chest. Now, it was done. Laura was gone, banished to her father’s run-down farmhouse out in the sticks. There would be no custody battle because Laura didn't have the financial resources to retain an attorney against the legal firepower he planned to unleash.
He rolled over in the king-sized bed. Vanessa was still asleep beside him, her arm flung over the silk sheets that had belonged to my grandmother.
Daniel smiled, stretched, and reached for his company-issued smartphone on the nightstand to check his email. He liked to start his mornings by watching the balance notifications on his offshore accounts.
He tapped the screen.
The display didn't light up with his usual biometric scan. Instead, a harsh red dialog box occupied the entire screen:
DEVICE LOCKED BY SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR. ERROR CODE: SEC-REVOKE-881. CONTACT CORPORATE SECURITY IMMEDIATELY.
Daniel sat bolt upright, the grogginess evaporating instantly. “What the hell?”
He tapped the screen repeatedly. Nothing. The phone was completely bricked.
“Babe, what is it?” Vanessa groaned, rolling over and burying her face in the pillows. “It’s Christmas. Go back to sleep.”
“My corporate phone is locked,” Daniel muttered, throwing back the duvet and standing up. “Must be a server migration glitch. IT always pulls this crap during holiday maintenance windows.”
He walked down the hall in his pajamas to his home office, intending to log in through his personal desktop computer. He pushed the heavy oak door open and clicked the power button on his triple-monitor setup.
He opened his personal email. Nothing seemed amiss there.
Then he attempted to access his Vanguard corporate portal through his virtual private network (VPN).
ACCESS DENIED. USER ACCOUNT: D_MILLER_EVP HAS BEEN SUSPENDED PENDING INVESTIGATION.
A faint, cold knot tightened in the pit of Daniel’s stomach. “Suspended?” he whispered aloud.
Downstairs, the front door rattled.
A sharp, booming knock echoed through the house, so loud it reverberated through the floorboards.
Daniel hurried down the stairs, tying his silk robe tightly around his waist. Margaret was already in the kitchen in her bathrobe, nursing a cup of black coffee. She looked up, annoyed.
“Who on earth is banging like that on Christmas morning?” Margaret scoffed, adjusting her pearl earrings. “If that’s Laura trying to bring the baby back because she realized she has nowhere to go, leave the door locked, Daniel. Let her sit on the steps until she learns her place.”
Daniel approached the foyer. He pulled back the curtain of the sidelight and peered out.
Parked in the circular driveway, their engines idling in the crisp morning air, were three black Chevy Suburbans. Men in heavy tactical coats with earpieces were standing on the porch, their breath blooming in white clouds.
Standing dead center at the front door was a man Daniel recognized immediately: Jack Vance, a former Secret Service agent who served as the ruthless head of corporate security for Vanguard Global.
Daniel’s blood ran cold.
He unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open a few inches. “Jack? What’s going on? Why are you here in Syracuse? It’s Christmas Day.”
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Vance didn't smile. He didn't return the greeting. He placed his gloved palm flat against the door and shoved it open, stepping directly into the foyer with two armed security officers flanking him.
“Daniel Miller,” Vance said in a flat, clinical tone. “Step away from the threshold and keep your hands where I can see them.”
