Chapter 4
The small reception office seemed to contract, the walls pressing in as Elena stared at the glowing screen of her phone. The anonymous text message sat there like a physical threat, casting doubt on every single thing Clara had claimed just moments earlier. If Julian was unreachable and someone else was texting from his phone, the entire narrative of the paid rent and the forged signature began to unravel into something far more sinister than a simple family dispute over housing.
"What did that say?" Clara demanded, her voice losing its previous musical arrogance and turning sharp and defensive as she strode back toward the counter. "Who are you texting? Are you trying to stage some pathetic sympathy play?"
Elena ignored her, keeping her eyes fixed on the text bubble. She tapped the reply icon with a steady thumb and typed out a quick, demand-driven response.
Who is this? Where is my brother?
Within three seconds, the phone vibrated against her palm. The reply was chillingly brief.
If you want to see him alive, leave the management office immediately and go to his downtown workshop.
Elena gasped, dropping her phone onto the formica counter with a sharp clatter. Leo let out a whimper, the cardboard moving box slipping slightly in his grasp before he managed to hoist it back up against his chest. The boy's wide eyes searched his mother's pale face for reassurance that wasn't there.
Arthur looked up from his paperwork, alarmed by the sudden shift in atmosphere. "Is everything alright, ma'am? Should I call security?"
"No," Elena whispered, her mind racing through the worst possible scenarios. Julian's downtown carpentry workshop was an old, drafty warehouse on the industrial side of the city—a place where heavy lumber and power tools made isolation absolute.
Clara reached out, her manicured fingers darting across the counter to grab the phone before Elena could pick it up. Her eyes scanned the screen, and the golden satin top heaved as she took a sharp, shallow breath.
"This is a prank," Clara insisted, though her voice shook violently. "It has to be. You're just trying to ruin my lease transfer."
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"That's Julian's emergency number, Clara," Elena snarled, snatching her phone back and shoving it into her pocket. "Nobody else even knows that secondary SIM exists. Somebody has him."
Before Clara could formulate another denial, the front glass doors of the office swung open with a loud bang, and a tall man in a dark trench coat stepped inside, holding a thick manila envelope addressed directly to Elena.
