Chapter 8 - THE SHOT THAT MISSED
“DOWN!”
I slammed into my father.
The window exploded.
Glass filled the room.
A bullet buried itself in the wall.
Daniel dragged us into the hallway.
“Stay down!”
Another shot punched through the bedroom.
My father grabbed my arm.
“Basement. Now.”
We moved fast.
Daniel's security team spread through the house.
I could hear them shouting positions into radios.
Outside, tires screamed.
By the time police arrived, the shooter was gone.
Julian called again.
I answered before anyone could stop me.
“You missed.”
His breathing came through the speaker.
“That wasn't supposed to hit him.”
“Then what was it supposed to do?”
“Remind you.”
“Of what?”
“That you're not the only one with people.”
I laughed.
“You're running from your own company with your girlfriend and a hired rifle.”
Silence.
I knew I'd hit something.
“She's not my girlfriend.”
I looked at Daniel.
He heard it too.
“What?”
Julian's voice lowered.
“You think this started because I slept with Selene?”
“You tell me.”
“Selene came to me two years ago.”
“Why?”
“She knew things.”
“About Horizon?”
“Yes.”
“What things?”
He hesitated.
Then shouted, “You bring me that drive!”
“You beat me until I couldn't stand.”
“And you're still standing.”
There was something almost resentful in his voice.
I suddenly understood.
“You hate that.”
“What?”
“That I'm still here.”
“Don't flatter yourself.”
“You wanted me afraid because you couldn't control me any other way.”
“You knew exactly what our marriage was.”
“No. I knew what you pretended it was.”
He became quiet.
Then he said, “Ask your father how your mother really died.”
The call ended.
I stopped breathing.
My father was standing ten feet away.
He had heard every word.
“Dad.”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
Daniel stepped aside.
Victor sat slowly in my mother's old kitchen chair.
For the first time in my life, he looked old.
“What did he mean?”
My father stared at the floor.
“We were told it was an aneurysm.”
“Told?”
“Your mother collapsed after a charity dinner in Washington.”
“I know.”
“She had met Malcolm Voss that afternoon.”
My skin went cold.
“You knew that?”
“Yes.”
“And never told me?”
“I had no proof.”
“What did you have?”
“Suspicion.”
My voice cracked.
“For eight years?”
He looked at me.
“For eight years.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I plugged the flash drive into Daniel's secure laptop.
There were seven folders.
Corporate transfers.
Patent records.
Offshore accounts.
Photographs.
Audio.
And one folder labeled:
IF I DIE.
My hand froze over the trackpad.
Inside was a single video file.
My mother's face appeared on the screen.
She looked directly into the camera.
Then she said,
May you like
“Elena, if you're watching this, Malcolm Voss found me first.”
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