Chapter 5 - Ghost in the Machine
Word count target: ~1,500 words
Hearing my dead brother's voice was like being plunged into freezing water. The hair on my arms stood on end, and for a second, I couldn't form words.
"Andrew?" I choked out, pulling the Bentley over to the curb near the entrance of the 405 freeway. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. "Is that really you?"
A dark, dry chuckle resonated through the speaker. "In the flesh. Well, not literally in your presence, but very much alive."
"You bastard," I spat, rage surging through the shock. "You let Mom die! She cried herself to sleep every night for two years thinking you were drowned at the bottom of the ocean! I buried an empty casket!"
"Mom was weak, Daniel," Andrew said callously, his voice stripped of any warmth he used to fake. "She would have dragged me into court over the family assets the moment my creditors came knocking. Faking my death was the only clean way out. The insurance paid off my debts, the trust opened up, and I got to start fresh."
"And Vanessa?" I demanded. "You planted her in my life? You had your girlfriend lie to me, sleep with me, propose to me—all to steal what was left of the family fortune?"
"Vanessa was brilliant," Andrew sneered. "She played you like a cheap violin, brother. You were so lonely, so desperate for a storybook ending after Mom died that you didn't even check her background. You just handed her the keys to the castle."
"She almost killed Maria tonight, Andrew! Maria has a seven-year-old boy—your son!"
The line went quiet for a long moment. When Andrew spoke again, his voice had lost its playful edge, replaced by a ruthless, icy coldness.
"Maria was a mistake," Andrew said flatly. "A loose end from my past that should have been dealt with years ago. She was paid to keep her mouth shut. She broke the deal by keeping proof of the kid. And now she's turned you into a crusade."
"I have your son secured, Andrew. Marcus is with him right now. You or Vanessa will never get near that boy."
Andrew let out a cold laugh. "Do you really think Vanessa is heading to Van Nuys to catch a flight, Daniel? Do you really think we're that stupid?"
My chest tightened. "What are you talking about?"
"Vanessa isn't running away. She's finishing the job," Andrew warned softly. "You sent your security team to East LA, leaving your mansion completely wide open. Did you really think Maria's room was the only place we kept our records?"
My eyes widened in horror. The mansion.
My home office contained the primary servers for the Whitmore Global Holdings network—including the master encryption keys for our international offshore accounts, worth tens of millions of dollars. Accounts that required physical biometric access from my home terminal to execute a total transfer.
"She's at the house," I whispered.
"She's been there for twenty minutes," Andrew replied smoothly. "By the time you drive back from the freeway, the master files will be uploaded, the funds cleared, and your life’s work wiped out. Don't come looking for us, Daniel. Be a good uncle, raise my bastard kid, and enjoy your empty house."
The line went dead.
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"Andrew! Andrew!" I screamed into the phone, but the call was disconnected.
I didn't think. I slammed my foot on the accelerator, making an illegal U-turn across three lanes of traffic, tires screaming against the asphalt as I raced back toward Beverly Hills.
