Chapter 5: The Morning After
Dawn didn't break over the Maple Crest Motor Inn with golden promise; it dragged itself in through the grime-streaked window as a pale, bruised gray. I sat upright in the uncomfortable armchair, a cold mug of instant coffee in my hands, watching the silent television mounted in the corner.
I hadn't slept. I hadn't needed to.
At exactly 6:00 AM, the local morning news broadcast flashed a breaking banner across the screen: CORPORATE SCANDAL ROCKS GRAND VANE WEDDING: INVESTIGATION LAUNCHED INTO ELITE GROOM.
The anchorwoman, looking grave and professional, stood in front of file footage of the Grand Vane Hotel exterior, before cutting to a shaky mobile phone video taken by a guest in the back of the ballroom—showing the exact moment Preston swung the solid oak menu board into the display stand, shattering the glass and screaming obscenities into the silence. The audio of his voice, raw and unfiltered, echoed through our cheap motel room. Below that headline, a scrolling ticker announced that Vane Enterprises’ stock had already plunged 14% in pre-market trading following the overnight delivery of "unverified corporate and personal compliance records" to major board members.
My phone, resting on the nightstand beside Lily’s sleeping form, buzzed softly. Then it buzzed again. And again.
I picked it up. The screen was lit up with missed calls and urgent text notifications from unknown numbers, private investigators, and a frantic legal team representing Preston’s father. One text message stood out, flashing from an unsaved number: Name your price. Name whatever you want. Take the USB down.
I stared at the glowing letters for three long seconds. A thin, bitter smile touched the corners of my lips. I didn't reply. I simply pressed Block Number, sliding the phone facedown onto the laminate table with a soft clack.
Across the room, Lily stirred, blinking her big brown eyes open against the morning light. She sat up, stretching her small arms wide, the pink tulle skirt rustling softly against the blanket.
May you like
“Morning, my brave girl,” I whispered, setting my coffee down and walking over to scoop her into my arms, burying my face in her curly light brown hair.
The motel door remained locked, the rain outside had finally stopped, and for the first time in three years, the sun was beginning to burn through the gray clouds. The world outside was scrambling to catch up to the truth, but we were already packed, ready, and walking straight out into the morning light.
