Chapter 7
The dark sedan hung tenaciously in their rearview mirror, its headlights cutting through the gathering dusk like twin blades. Every time David took a sharp turn onto a side street to test if they were being followed, the trailing car mirrored his movements with terrifying precision.
"They're staying right on us," Martha said, twisting around in her seat to watch the grille of the sedan reflect the red glow of a traffic light. "David, are we being tailed?"
"Professional tail," David confirmed, his voice unnervingly calm as he navigated a labyrinth of older residential neighborhoods designed to slow down pursuers. "They want us to know we're exposed. It's textbook intimidation. Make the target feel unsafe on their own turf so they take the settlement out of sheer exhaustion."
"This is insane," Martha cried out, her hands flying to her stomach as a sharp wave of Braxton Hicks contractions tightened her muscles. She closed her eyes, breathing through the sudden discomfort, furious that her body was reacting to the stress. "It was just a grocery run. I bought milk and diapers. How did it turn into a corporate espionage thriller?"
"Because retail loss prevention is a multi-billion-dollar machine backed by aggressive legal teams," David said, glancing over at her pale face. He noticed her hand resting defensively on her belly and immediately eased off the gas pedal. "Hey, are you alright? Do we need to head to the hospital?"
"No," Martha breathed, shaking her head. "I just need to get home. I need to talk to Thomas before these people get to him."
"Too late for that," David muttered, checking his dashboard tablet. "Look at your home address ping on the GPS."
Martha leaned forward. A small blinking red dot representing their suburban home was surrounded by three other static icons—all representing vehicles registered to the same corporate conglomerate currently parked within a two-block radius of their driveway.
"They're already there," Martha whispered, the fight temporarily draining out of her. "They're waiting at the house."
"We're not going home," David decided instantly, making a hard, illegal u-turn across a quiet intersection that caused the trailing sedan to overshoot the turn by half a block. "We're going to my secure office downtown. It's wired, it's private, and my associates are already there waiting for us."
As they sped toward the city center, Martha’s phone buzzed again. This wasn't a text message or a blocked call. It was a direct video call from Thomas.
With shaking fingers, Martha swiped to accept the call. Thomas’s face appeared on the small screen, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights of his clinic's back office. Behind him, two men in dark suits were calmly sitting in the waiting chairs, holding manila folders.
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"Martha, honey, where are you?" Thomas asked, his voice strained and frantic. "There are some men here from Walmart's corporate legal department. They say they need to talk to me about a 'mutually beneficial resolution' regarding your incident at Store 412, or else my clinic audit gets expedited next week."
Martha froze, the phone slipping slightly in her sweaty palm as Thomas’s camera panned slightly to reveal the two suit-clad men watching him intently.
