At My Brother’s Wedding, His Mother-in-Law Slapped Me and I Collapsed—But the Mysterious Phone Beside My Face Lit Up With a Terrifying Message: “WHY IS SHE STILL ALIVE?”

The blue and red lights reflected off the wet walls of David's office as tactical units stormed the twenty-fourth floor.

Detective Miller, his shoulder heavily bandaged and his arm immobilized in a sling, walked through the doorway flanked by four federal agents.

"Clear!" the agents shouted, securing the room.

Miller looked at Victoria’s body on the floor, then at Grant, who was sitting against the wall in handcuffs, weeping silently. Finally, Miller looked at me.

"You okay, Bennett?" he asked.

"Maisie is at the diner on 4th Street," I said, my voice hollow. "Get her. Bring her to me."

"Already done," Miller said softly. "My partner picked her up ten minutes ago. She’s downstairs in a cruiser, eating pancakes, waiting for you."

I closed my eyes and let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for a lifetime.

"Claire," Miller said, stepping closer, lowering his voice. "We have a problem."

I opened my eyes. "What problem? Victoria is dead. Grant confessed."

Miller held up a tablet displaying a live flight radar tracker. "The charter jet registered to Victoria’s Swiss company just took off from New Castle airport."

"What?" I frowned. "Who is on that plane?"

"We don't know," Miller said grimly. "The manifest was cleared under diplomatic seal ten minutes before we breached the building. But the FAA filed an emergency flight plan for Geneva."

A sudden, sickening thought struck me.

I ran to David’s desk.

The stack of cream-colored stock certificates bound in red ribbon was still there. But when I flipped through them, my blood turned to ice.

They were blank.

Dozens of sheets of high-grade parchment, completely devoid of signatures, seals, or corporate stamps.

A decoy.

The real Alpine Trust documents weren't in David’s safe.

And then, my phone—which Miller’s team had recovered from the Grand Plaza and recharged—vibrated in my pocket.

An unknown number.

I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello, Claire," a woman’s voice whispered through the line.

It wasn't Victoria.