THE BIRTHDAY CAKE SHATTERED INTO FROSTING AND SECRETS NOBODY WAS SUPPOSED TO FIND

The dull gleam of the matte-black pistol under the living room lights silenced the entire room instantly. Even David stopped struggling against Laura, freezing mid-motion as he stared down the barrel of the gun held by the man he thought he was partnering with.

"Viktor, wait—don't shoot!" David stammered, his voice pitching up in sheer panic as he scrambled backward over the cushions of the sofa. "The girl's just a kid! She doesn't know how to crack an encrypted file! I can get it back, I swear to God I can!"

Viktor didn't blink. He kept the weapon perfectly steady, the barrel pointed directly at David's chest before shifting slightly toward Laura, who still knelt on the floor near the overturned coffee table.

"You promised a clean operation, David," Viktor said, his tone terrifyingly quiet and measured. "You said the family was cooperative, manageable, and entirely unaware of the syndicate's involvement. Now your teenage daughter is running around the neighborhood with a hard drive containing the names, account numbers, and offshore routing codes of every single man in my organization."

Uncle Greg whimpered from the corner, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the floor in a fetal position, trembling uncontrollably. Aunt Martha buried her face in her hands, softly praying aloud in a monotone murmur.

Laura slowly climbed to her feet, ignoring the sharp ache in her ribs where David had struck her. Her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for any makeshift weapon, but the wooden stick lay too far away near the baseboard, out of her immediate reach. She positioned herself deliberately between Viktor and the hallway, putting her own body as a shield between the criminal boss and the path Iris had just taken.

"You want the laptop?" Laura said, her voice remarkably steady despite the terror threatening to tear her apart inside. "You'll have to go through me first."

Viktor tilted his head slightly, a flicker of genuine curiosity crossing his hardened features.

"You have a remarkable amount of courage for a woman who is about to lose everything, Mrs. Hayes," Viktor observed, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. "But courage doesn't stop a bullet. Tell me where the girl went, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you and your brother survive the night to watch the bulldozers tear this place down tomorrow morning."

David scrambled to his feet, eager to throw anyone under the bus if it meant saving his own skin.

"She went toward the old railway tracks behind the property!" David blurted out, pointing frantically toward the kitchen window. "There's an old maintenance path that leads down to the ravine. She can't go far in the dark without a flashlight!"

Laura shot her brother a look of such pure, unadulterated hatred that David actually flinched and stepped back.

"You are a monster," Laura whispered. "He's your own blood, David. She's your niece."

"Blood doesn't pay bills, Laura!" David shouted back, his voice cracking with hysteria. "Survival pays bills!"

Before Viktor could issue another command or take another step forward, the front window of the living room suddenly shattered inward with an explosive crash. Shards of glass rained across the ruined birthday cake and the hardwood floor as a heavy stone wrapped in a handwritten note landed squarely in the center of the room.

Viktor instinctively swung his pistol toward the broken window, temporarily distracted by the unexpected attack from the outside.

Laura didn't waste a single millisecond of the distraction. She dove across the floor, sliding through the broken glass and blue frosting until her fingers wrapped securely around the wooden stick she had dropped earlier.

Viktor whipped back around, his gun leveling toward Laura, but before he could pull the trigger, the front door was kicked wide open again, and a blinding beam of police cruiser headlights flooded the living room.