Chapter 7: The Panic in the Wire
The response didn't come via text message this time. Ten minutes after the audio snippet vanished into the digital ether, the burner phone began to ring. The screen flashed with an incoming call from a restricted number—the private trunk line directly into Evelyn’s study, a line that bypassed all household switchboards and was typically reserved for senior military officials and district judges.
I let it ring through the first three cycles, listening to the harsh, vibrating electronic tone hum against the dashboard. The sound carried a strange kind of gravity, echoing with the final, desperate gasps of a dynasty built entirely on silence and intimidation. On the fourth cycle, I tapped the green button and brought the plastic receiver up to my ear.
"Lisa."
It wasn't Evelyn’s gravelly, authoritarian bark on the other end. It was Ryan’s voice, stripped of its usual polished arrogance and sharp around the edges, breathless with an authentic, unfiltered panic that he couldn't quite force back down his throat.
"Where did you get that?" Ryan demanded, his words tumbling over each other without his usual calculated cadence. "Who else have you sent it to? Lisa, listen to me—you have no idea what you're stepping into. Evelyn is already calling the legal team. If this leaves the house, you're looking at federal wiretapping charges, breach of privacy covenants, total asset forfeiture—"
"You always did rely too much on threats you couldn't back up, Ryan," I interrupted, my voice calm, steady, and entirely level. I didn't raise my tone. I didn't need to. The quiet authority of someone who had nothing left to lose was far heavier than any military baton.
"We can fix this," Ryan muttered, his voice dropping to a harsh, hurried whisper as if he were trying to block someone else in the room from hearing him. "Just tell me what you want. A transfer to Zurich? A property in the Pacific Northwest? You can have whatever name you want on the deed by morning. Just give us the master drive."
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"The drive is already out of your reach, Ryan," I replied softly, watching the headlights of a passing transport truck cut through the rainy darkness outside the windshield. "And so am I."
Before he could answer, before he could bark another desperate demand or throw out another hollow promise of wealth, I pressed the red end call button. The screen went dark, plunging the car back into silence.
