Chapter 11
The sound of Nyah’s voice echoing through the secure Georgetown safehouse felt like a physical blow. On the television screen, her shimmering beige evening dress had been replaced by a somber, expensive black blazer, perfectly tailored to project an image of a grieving, vulnerable mother wronged by a malicious, unhinged family.
Leo stared at the screen, his small hands clenching the folds of the wool blanket so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"She's lying," Leo whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and profound heartbreak that no seven-year-old child should ever have to bear. "She locked me out. She said I ruined her dress. She wanted me to go away."
Evelyn rushed across the room, dropping to her knees in front of the sofa and pulling the boy into a fierce, protective embrace. "I know she's lying, baby. The whole world is going to find out the truth soon enough, but right now, we have to move faster than her PR team."
Agent Hayes tapped a button on the smartphone, his face pale as he looked up from the glowing display. "Mrs. Vance, she just initiated a remote wipe command on this device from her press conference podium. The firewall is collapsing. We have less than three minutes before the entire storage drive is permanently erased."
Marcus didn't hesitate. He lunged across the room, ripped the charging cable from the wall, and jammed a specialized thumb drive into the bottom port of the phone, attempting to siphon the data stream before the self-destruct protocol completed its cycle.
"It's transferring!" Marcus gritted his teeth, watching the progress bar crawl across the screen at a agonizingly slow pace. Forty percent. Fifty percent. Sixty percent.
Suddenly, the screen flashed a brilliant, blinding crimson, and a cold robotic voice chimed softly from the speaker: Data transfer failed. Security protocol engaged.
The screen went completely black.
Silence descended upon the safehouse, heavier and more suffocating than before. Agent Hayes slumped back against the wall, rubbing his face with his hands. "It's gone. Every last byte of evidence is wiped clean from the local hardware. Unless the cloud backup servers at Apex Global are physically compromised within the hour, we have nothing to tie Nyah or the corporation to the shooting at your brownstone."
Evelyn stood up slowly, her expression hardening into a mask of pure, unyielding determination. She walked over to the entryway, picked up her coat, and slipped her arms through the sleeves.
"Then we compromise the cloud servers," Evelyn said quietly, picking up the heavy brass key ring from the console table.
Marcus stared at her, stunned. "Mrs. Vance, you cannot seriously expect to walk into Apex Global headquarters—"
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"I'm not going to Apex Global," Evelyn interrupted, turning to face him with a cold fire in her eyes. "I'm going back to the penthouse. Nyah’s personal terminal is hardwired to the mainframe through a dedicated router in her walk-in closet. If the physical backup drive is still sitting in her safe, we don't need a digital transfer. We need a hammer."
Before Marcus could formulate a reply, the heavy iron security door of the safehouse shuddered under a massive, deafening explosion from the hallway outside.
