Chapter 3 - The Digital Avalanche
Within forty-eight minutes of the flash from the hedge, the raw footage was uploaded to an anonymous video-sharing platform with a caption designed to trigger a media feeding frenzy: Billionaire Richard Sterling’s Darkest Secret Exposed in Broad Daylight. By the time Richard managed to drag the barefoot boy away from Clara and push the wheelchair toward the French doors of the mansion, his phone was already buzzing incessantly in his breast pocket. The screen flashed with frantic alerts from his chief legal counsel, his public relations firm, and the board of directors of Sterling Global Industries.
Dad, stop pulling! Clara cried out, her voice stronger than it had been in years, her feet sliding off the footrest to brush against the manicured lawn. I can feel the grass! I can actually feel the grass!
Richard ignored her, his jaw set in a hard, desperate line as he maneuvered the blue wheelchair across the stone patio, kicking the heavy oak doors open and slamming them shut against the horde of gaping guests outside. The cavernous foyer of the mansion was cool, smelling faintly of imported beeswax and old money, but today it felt like a tomb. He shoved the heavy deadbolt into place with a resounding thud that echoed through the high-ceilinged hallway.
You can't hide from this, Mr. Sterling, the boy said calmly, standing just inside the entrance where Richard had shoved him. He didn't look afraid of the billionaire; he looked like an executioner waiting for the signal to drop the blade.
Shut up, Richard hissed, whirling around to face the intruder while keeping his body positioned between the boy and Clara. Who sent you? Was it the board? Are they trying to force me out through my daughter? Talk, or I swear to God I’ll have you buried in a hole so deep the sun will never find your bones.
Clara gripped the wheels of her chair, her knuckles bleeding where she had scraped them against the metal spokes. She didn't look at her father with fear anymore; she looked at him with a terrifying, hollow curiosity that terrified Richard more than any threat.
Dad, she whispered, her voice dropping an octave as she stared at the rusted pendant still dangling from the boy’s hand. He has Mom’s necklace. The one she was wearing the night of the accident. You told me the police lost it in the river. You told me there was nothing left of her.
May you like
Richard’s breath hitched. The walls of the grand foyer seemed to close in around him, the portraits of his ancestors staring down with painted judgment. He reached out blindly toward Clara, but she recoiled, shrinking back into the cushions of the wheelchair as the front gate intercom suddenly chimed with the blaring sirens of three police cruisers pulling up the private drive.
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