Chapter 6 - The Phantom Passenger
Elena blinked hard, staring into the dark, vacant space where her ten-year-old son had been sitting just moments before. The back door on the driver's side was clicked open by barely a fraction of an inch, letting in a thin line of damp garage air. Julian was gone. He had slipped out into the concrete labyrinth of the parking structure while she was hypnotized by the terrifying code on the dashboard screen.
Outside, Richard Vance reached the driver’s door, his polished leather shoe kicking lightly against the front tire to emphasize his dominance. "Stop hiding behind locked doors, Elena," he sneered, leaning down to peer through the tinted glass. "Where is your little prodigy? Did he run away back to his nursery like a frightened coward?"
Elena rolled the window down two inches, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the absolute terror gripping her throat. "Leave him out of this, Richard. He’s ten years old. Whatever you think he took, I have it. Arrest me. Take the car. Just let the boy go home."
Richard chuckled, a dry, grating sound that echoed off the concrete pillars. "Go home? Elena, my dear, you don't have a home anymore. As of midnight, the bank seized the deed to your estate. As for the boy... Marcus has spent the last five years grooming that kid to take over the firm, and this is how he repays us? Breaking into the main servers like a common criminal?"
"He was protecting his family from thieves!" Elena shouted, her restraint finally cracking as tears of pure fury leaked down her cheeks. "You and Marcus stole everything from us! You forged the signatures on the asset transfer! I saw the preliminary audit before you locked me out of the system!"
Richard’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, dangerous scowl. He signaled to the security guards, who immediately raised heavy iron crowbars toward the sedan's side windows. "You talk too much, Elena. And your son has learned far too many dangerous habits. Break the glass."
Before the iron could strike the window, the overhead fluorescent lights in the parking garage flickered violently and died, plunging the entire floor into absolute, pitch-black darkness. Shouts of surprise echoed from the security guards as the emergency backup generators failed to kick in immediately. In the sudden gloom, a sharp, piercing alarm began to wail from the ceiling speakers—not a fire alarm, but the high-frequency sonic pulse used to disorient intruders in high-security vaults.
Richard cursed loudly, stumbling backward against the side of his SUV as the disorienting shriek vibrated inside his skull. "What is this? Who cut the grid?" he yelled into his radio communicator.
From somewhere deep within the concrete shadows near the service elevators, a small, cold voice echoed clearly across the cavernous garage, cutting through the screeching alarm.
May you like
"Check your phone, Uncle Richard," Julian’s voice rang out, steady and devoid of all childish warmth. "You might want to see what's currently being broadcast live to every major financial news outlet in the country."
---
