Elena met me in the hallway. She looked worried, angelic. “David,” she said softly, extending her hand to me. “You look exhausted. Where’s Leo?”
“He’s at my sister’s,” I lied. “I had to talk to you first.”
“Okay,” Marcus said, stepping out of the shadows of the study. “We need to discuss your outburst. It was… inappropriate.”
I lowered my head. “I know. I was stressed. The work has been hard.”
I played the broken man. I let them lecture me. I let Marcus pour me a drink and tell me I needed to be stronger, that I needed to understand their “methods.” I nodded. I apologized.
That night, I lay next to my wife in bed. She slept deeply and soundly, her breathing regular. I waited until 3 a.m.
I slipped out of bed and crept into Marcus’s study. The house was quiet, a tomb of precious mahogany and secrets. I found the external hard drives in the safe—the code was Elena’s birthday. Arrogance. Predictability.
I copied everything. Not just the abuse. The financial data. The emails. The bribes disguised as “consulting fees.”
I was about to leave when the floor creaked behind me.
I froze.
“David?”
It was Marcus. He stood in the doorway, a robe tied loosely around his waist, a pistol in his hand.
“You’re up late,” he said, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He raised the pistol. “Have you been taking money from the family piggy bank?”
My heart pounded in my chest, like a trapped bird desperately trying to fly. But my face remained a mask of calm. After all, I’d learned from the best.
