Chapter 7: The Anonymous Package
The local diner two blocks away from the office was quiet, bathed in the yellow glow of neon signs and vinyl booths. They sat in a corner booth near the back, a plate of warm cheese pizza steaming between them. Lily ate quietly, her earlier tears replaced by the simple comfort of comfort food. Julian and Claire spoke in hushed tones across the table, their untouched coffee cups growing cold.
"We need to check David's old apartment again," Claire insisted, stirring her coffee with a small plastic spoon. "If he left in a rush, he might have left a computer, a journal, something that explains why he's doing this. People don't just execute corporate sabotage and abandon their children without a motive."
"The landlord wouldn't let us back in without a police escort," Julian replied, staring out the diner window at the darkening street. "And Officer Miller made it clear that without proof of a crime, our hands are tied regarding David's disappearance."
The bell above the diner door jingled softly as a blast of cool autumn air swept inside. A young courier in a bright yellow jacket walked in, scanning the room. His eyes locked onto Julian’s white tuxedo shirt—which he was still wearing beneath his dark overcoat—and he walked straight toward their booth.
"Julian Vance?" the courier asked, holding out a small, padded manila envelope.
"Yes," Julian said, sitting up straight.
"Sign here, please." The courier handed over a digital clipboard. Julian scribbled his name, and the courier dropped the envelope onto the table before turning and walking back out into the night.
Julian picked up the package. It was heavy, sealed securely with reinforced brown tape. There was no return address, only his name written in that same familiar, hurried scrawl.
Claire watched nervously, her hands resting on the edge of the table. "Open it."
Julian carefully tore open the top of the envelope. He pulled out a heavy titanium flash drive and another folded piece of white paper. He unfolded the paper and read the words aloud, his voice barely audible:
You wanted the truth, Julian. Plug this into the office terminal. And God forgive you when you see what Dad really left behind.
May you like
Julian stared at the flash drive in his palm. It felt cold and heavy, a digital Pandora's box waiting to be opened. The reference to their late father sent a shiver down his spine. Their father had always been regarded as a pillar of the architectural community, a man of uncompromising integrity and brilliant design. For David to suggest that their father's legacy was built on deception wasn't just an attack on Julian's business; it was an attack on their entire family history.
"We're going back to the office," Julian said, his voice brooking no argument. He slid the flash drive and the note into his pocket, dropped a twenty-dollar bill onto the table to cover the meal, and reached for Lily’s hand.
