Franklin Cross's study felt like a fortress.
The fire crackled. The books watched from their shelves. The old man sat in his leather armchair, wrapped in a blanket, looking nothing like a judge and everything like a general planning a war.
"We need to assume Vinson has already given Webb the files," Franklin said. "That means Webb knows everything we know. The question is what he'll do with that information."
"Destroy evidence," Nathaniel said. "Kill witnesses. Flee the country."
"All of the above. But Webb is arrogant. He won't run until he's sure he can't win. That gives us a window."
"How long?"
"Forty-eight hours. Maybe less." Franklin coughed into his fist. The nurse appeared in the doorway, but he waved her away again. "I've spent fifteen years building a case against Webb. I have files he doesn't know about. Witnesses he's never met. Evidence that isn't on any hard drive."
"You've been preparing for this," Victoria said.
"I've been preparing for the day my son came home." Franklin looked at Nathaniel. "I knew you would eventually. I just didn't know when."
Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "You could have called."
"So could you."
The silence between them was heavy.
Victoria broke it. "What do you need us to do?"
Franklin turned to her. His eyes were sharp, assessing.
"Olivia Park," he said. "You worked with Richard Chan. You know the financial side better than anyone. I need you to recreate the transaction map from memory. Every payment. Every shell company. Every name."
Olivia nodded. "I can do that. It might take time."
"You have twenty-four hours."
"I'll start now."
Franklin turned to Nathaniel. "You need to talk to Catherine Webb again. She has contacts in the media—journalists who aren't afraid of Marcus. Find out who's willing to go public with the story."
"Catherine is scared," Nathaniel said. "Vinson threatened her."
"Then un-scare her. Remind her why she started this fight in the first place."
Nathaniel nodded slowly.
Franklin looked at Victoria last. His gaze softened.
"You're the key," he said. "Webb doesn't know you. He doesn't have a file on you. He doesn't know what you look like, what you sound like, what you're capable of. That makes you dangerous."
"What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to go somewhere Webb would never expect. I need you to find someone who can testify against him in open court. A living witness who isn't afraid to speak."
"Who?"
Franklin pulled a photograph from the drawer of the side table. A woman in her forties, dark hair, serious eyes.
"Her name is Sarah Chen. She's Richard Chan's sister. She lives in Chicago. She's been in hiding for three years because she knows who killed her brother."
"Vinson."
"Vinson pulled the trigger. But Webb gave the order. Sarah has a recording of Webb admitting it. She's been saving it for the right moment."
"How do I find her?"
Franklin wrote an address on the back of the photograph. "She's been living under a fake name. She owns a small bakery in Evanston. She doesn't trust anyone. You'll have to earn her trust."
"I will."
Franklin handed her the photograph. Their eyes met.
"Be careful," he said. "Webb has people in Chicago too."
---
They left the study one by one.
Olivia set up at the dining room table, her new laptop—Franklin had provided it—glowing in front of her. She was already typing, her face focused.
Nathaniel stood by the window, his phone pressed to his ear. Catherine had answered on the first ring. He was talking quietly, his back to the room.
Victoria walked to the foyer. She looked at the photograph in her hand. Sarah Chen. Richard's sister. A woman who'd been hiding for three years, waiting for someone to come.
The nurse appeared at her elbow.
"He's dying, you know," the nurse said quietly.
"Franklin?"
"He has maybe six months. Maybe less. He's been saving his strength for this. Don't waste it."
"I won't."
The nurse nodded and disappeared down the hallway.
---
Nathaniel found her in the foyer.
"Catherine is in," he said. "She has three journalists ready to go public. All of them are scared, but all of them are willing."
"That's good."
"It's something." He looked at the photograph in her hand. "Chicago?"
"Chicago."
"I'm coming with you."
"No. You're needed here."
"Victoria—"
"I'm not arguing about this." She looked up at him. "Your father is dying. Olivia needs you. Catherine needs you. I can do this alone."
"You don't have to."
"I know. But I want to."
Nathaniel stared at her for a long moment. Then he reached out and touched her face—just once, light as a whisper.
"Come back," he said.
"I always do."
---
She left an hour later.
The black SUV was gone—Vinson had taken it—so Franklin's driver took her to Union Station. She bought a ticket to Chicago on the next train. Cash. No ID. No record.
The train was crowded. She found a seat by the window and watched the city fade into suburbs, then into farmland.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Nathaniel.
"Be careful."
She typed back: "Always."
Then she turned off the phone and watched the fields roll by.
---
Chicago was cold.
Victoria stepped off the train and walked through the crowded station. She kept her head down, her hands in her pockets. The photograph of Sarah Chen was tucked into her jacket, next to her heart.
She took a cab to Evanston.
The bakery was called "Chen's Sweets." It was small, wedged between a laundromat and a pawn shop. The sign was hand-painted. The windows were clean.
Victoria pushed open the door.
A bell jingled. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wrapped around her.
Behind the counter, a woman looked up. Dark hair. Serious eyes. Sarah Chen.
"We're closed," Sarah said.
"I'm not here for pastries."
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Then what are you here for?"
Victoria walked to the counter. She pulled out the photograph and set it down.
"Your brother sent me," she said. "Before he died."
Sarah stared at the photograph. Her face went pale.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Victoria Hart. I'm trying to put Marcus Webb in prison. And I need your help."
Sarah was silent for a long moment. Then she walked to the front door, flipped the sign to "Closed," and locked it.
"Come in the back," she said. "We have a lot to talk about."