Chapter 3 - The Ghost Speaks
A collective gasp ripped through the three hundred guests in the room.
"Is that... is that Maren?" a family friend gasped. "My God, she's alive!"
"It's a miracle!" someone shouted from the back.
"Is it a miracle?" I asked loudly, turning my head to address the crowd, my voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like a business transaction."
David’s instincts finally kicked in. Panic flared in his eyes, but he tried frantically to regain control of the room. He dropped his side of the three-million-dollar check, stepped to the edge of the stage, and held out his hands.
"Maren!" David cried out, his voice laced with forced, theatrical emotion. "My sweet girl! You're... you're alive! This is... God answered our prayers!"
He tried to step down to hug me, but I took one sharp step backward and drew my rescue knife, flipping it open with a metallic clack.
David stopped dead in his tracks, his hands flying into the air. The crowd gasped again, several women stepping back in shock.
"Don't touch me, David," I said coldly.
"Maren, please!" Eleanor sobbed, though this time real sweat was breaking out on her forehead. "You've been through a horrific ordeal! You're confused, darling! Let us take you upstairs, get you cleaned up, call a doctor—"
"I'm not confused, Eleanor," I spat. "And I don't need a doctor. I spent six months in a hostile desert. I survived on muddy water, raw meat, and pure spite. I walked twenty miles with a shattered knee to reach a forward operating base."
I took a step up onto the stage. Julian scrambled backward so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.
"And when I finally reached a secure comms line to report that I was alive," I continued, pointing my knife toward the representative from Vance Defense, "do you know what I found out? My military death benefits had already been processed. My estate had been liquidated. And my dear parents were hosting a three-million-dollar party in my memory."
The representative from Vance Defense looked around nervously, backing toward the side exit.
"Mr. Vance," I called out, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't leave yet. I want to know why your company is giving my family three million dollars for my death. Is it a gift? Or is it a payoff for the classified report I sent to Central Command right before my helicopter was sabotaged?"
Whispers erupted like wildfire throughout the room.
"Sabotage?"
"Weapons contractor?"
"What is she talking about?"
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David’s face turned purple with rage and panic. He grabbed the microphone off the stand. "Security! Clear the room! The event is over! Clear the room immediately!"
"No one move," I commanded, pulling a small, black encrypted military flash drive from my tactical vest pocket and holding it high for everyone—and the society reporters' cameras—to see. "Because everything on this drive is about to go live to the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
