Chapter 3 - Echoes in the Dark
The rain didn't stop for three days, turning the city into a blurred canvas of neon and gray asphalt. Inside the ninth-floor apartment, Isla began to establish a fragile routine. With the groceries Marcus brought, she finally ate, her body slowly recovering from the trauma of birth and the subsequent exposure in the stairwell. Noah was thriving, his small cheeks filling out, his cries loud and healthy in the quiet space.
But the peace was an illusion, and Isla knew it.
On Thursday morning, Davis knocked on the door. He wasn't in his usual security uniform; he wore a dark, heavy wool coat and carried a sleek black briefcase.
"Mr. Callaway wants you to have this," Davis said, handing her a brand-new, encrypted smartphone and a set of legal documents. "The phone has one number programmed into it. His. The documents are for your signature."
Isla took the papers, her eyes scanning the legal jargon. It was a power of attorney and a retainer agreement for a law firm she recognized instantly—Vanguard & Cross, the most ruthless corporate litigation firm in the state. The retainer fee listed at the bottom was written as Covered by Callaway Holdings.
"He’s hiring them for me?" Isla asked, looking up at Davis. "This costs thousands an hour."
"Mr. Callaway doesn't look at the bill when he’s cleaning house, ma'am," Davis said with a faint, respectful smile. "He also wanted me to tell you that someone tried to access your medical records at St. Catherine’s this morning. A private investigator hired by Callum Voss’s legal team. They were looking for any mention of post-partum depression or instability."
A chill ran down Isla's spine. She clutched Noah tighter against her chest. "Did they get them?"
"No," Davis replied, his tone turning ice-cold. "Mr. Callaway owns the hospital's security provider. The investigator was escorted from the premises. His camera and phone were... decommissioned. But it means they're looking for you. They know you didn't leave the city."
After Davis left, Isla sat by the window, watching the tiny cars move like ants on the streets below. She felt a profound sense of vertigo. A week ago, she was a regular citizen, a mother-to-be planning a nursery in a modest apartment. Now, she was caught in a war between a corrupt political dynasty and a legendary underworld figure.
The phone in her hand buzzed. The screen showed no number, just the word: CALLAWAY.
She pressed it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Are you taking care of yourself, Isla?" Roman’s voice was deep, steady, a grounding wire in the middle of her panic.
"I signed the papers," she said, ignoring his question. "But you need to understand something, Roman. Callum isn't just stupid; he's cruel. He has recordings of me from when we were together. He used to twist my words, make me sound erratic when we argued. If he presents those to a family court judge—"
"He won't," Roman interrupted. "Because those recordings no longer exist."
Isla frowned. "What do you mean?"
"An hour ago, the cloud server used by Callum Voss and his uncle's real estate firm suffered a catastrophic hardware failure. A localized power surge in their primary data center in the North District. Every backup, every audio file, every email from the last three years was wiped. My people are very thorough when they do electrical maintenance."
Isla gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "You destroyed their servers?"
"I optimized their storage," Roman corrected, a hint of dark humor in his voice. "But Carl Voss is smart. He knows it wasn't an accident. He knows someone is backing you. Right now, he’s trying to figure out who has the capability to bypass military-grade firewalls and drop his digital house of cards."
"He'll find out it's you," she said, fear tight in her throat. "What happens then? They have the police, the courts—"
"They have the pieces they bought," Roman said, his tone shifting into something terrifyingly absolute. "I own the board they're playing on. Tomorrow morning, Councilman Voss is hosting a charity gala at the Grand Imperial Hotel. It’s a fundraising event for his mayoral campaign next year. I want you to get dressed, Isla. Marcus is bringing up a selection of clothes for you this afternoon."
May you like
Isla’s heart hammered against her ribs. "You want me to go there? With Noah?"
"No. Noah stays with Davis and a certified pediatric nurse in the penthouse. You come with me. Callum will be there. Carl will be there. It’s time to show them that the woman they left in the cold has found a very different kind of shelter."
