Chapter 11 - The Knock in the Dark
Three weeks later, Lily and I moved into a quiet, gated townhouse near my family in Columbus, Ohio.
I had sold our old house, burned the remaining remnants of Claire's presence, and legally changed Lily’s last name to my mother’s maiden name. We started therapy together. Lily was sleeping through the night without nightmares, her soft giggles once again filling our living room.
It was a rainy Tuesday night. Lily was upstairs tucked in bed, sound asleep after we read three chapters of her favorite fairy tale.
I sat on the living room sofa with a cup of black coffee, reviewing the final legal paperwork granting me full, uncontested sole custody. The divorce was officially finalized. The criminal trial was scheduled for the winter.
Everything was in order. Peace had finally settled into our lives.
Suddenly, a dull vibration echoed from my desk drawer.
I froze.
My personal phone was resting beside my coffee mug on the coffee table.
I stood up slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I walked toward the antique desk in the corner—a new desk, bought just two weeks ago.
Inside the top drawer lay the items the police had returned to me as personal property after concluding their forensic sweeps. Among them was the cheap burner phone taken from Claire's vanity.
The screen was glowing brightly in the dark.
*Vibrate. Vibrate.*
My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. The burner phone was supposed to be deactivated. The FBI had assured me the entire network had been arrested or dismantled after Julian's death.
With a trembling hand, I picked up the phone.
A single text message lit up the cracked screen:
*“You thought Julian was the boss? Julian was just the messenger, David. Eleanor didn't steal twelve million. She stole fifty. And half of it was transferred into a trust fund under Lily's name before she was arrested.”*
Before my brain could process the horrific implications, three heavy, deliberate knocks rattled against our front door.
*THUD. THUD. THUD.*
A chill ran down my spine. The townhouse was in a private, guarded community. Nobody could get through the security gate without my authorization.
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Then, the burner phone buzzed once more:
*“Open the door, David. Or we come through Lily's bedroom window.”*
