THE LIGHT BENEATH THE LIES

The rain had turned into a freezing drizzle by the time David dropped me off two blocks from the Ashford Grand Hotel.

I stood in the shadows of an adjacent parking garage, watching the massive, glowing facade of the hotel I had spent three years helping to build. The front revolving doors were locked. Two of Vanessa’s armed men in dark suits stood casually near the valet stand, masquerading as private security.

I tightened my grip on the heavy tire iron hidden inside my oversized coat.

I didn't go near the front. I slipped down the dark, narrow service alley running behind the building.

The loading bay was quiet. The massive corrugated metal doors were shut, but a small, steel personnel door sat adjacent to the loading dock.

I pulled the master override keycard from my pocket. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped it twice. I picked it up, wiped the mud off the magnetic strip, and slid it into the card reader.

A small light blinked from red to green. The heavy magnetic lock clicked open.

I slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind me without a sound.

The underground service bay smelled of fresh paint and industrial cleaner. I moved quickly, hugging the shadows between the massive laundry bins and the dry-storage cages.

I reached the far wall. Hidden behind a row of empty linen carts was a plain, unmarked gray door.

I swiped the keycard again. The door opened, revealing a small, utilitarian elevator car.

I stepped inside and pressed the button for the penthouse floor.

The elevator didn't have a floor indicator chime, exactly as I had designed it so it wouldn't disturb the guests. It hummed quietly, carrying me thirty floors up into the heart of Jonathan’s fortress.

I checked the time on my phone. 4:15 AM.

I had less than two hours to cancel the transfer before the money disappeared forever.

The elevator slowed to a halt. The doors slid silently open.

I stepped out into a dimly lit, plush hallway. The penthouse suite occupied the entire top floor.

I crept toward the heavy double doors of Jonathan’s private office.

A single guard was standing outside the office, drinking a cup of coffee and scrolling on his phone.

I didn't have time to hesitate. I didn't have time to be terrified.

I tightened my grip on the heavy steel tire iron. I stepped out of the shadows, walking quickly and quietly up behind him.

The guard heard my footsteps at the last second. He turned, his eyes widening in surprise as he reached for the gun in his shoulder holster.

I swung the tire iron with every ounce of strength I had left.

The heavy metal struck him squarely on the side of the head with a sickening crack. He collapsed instantly, dropping his coffee cup onto the plush carpet.

I stood over him, my chest heaving, the tire iron trembling in my hand. I dragged his unconscious body into a nearby supply closet and locked the door.

I turned to the heavy double doors of the office.

I didn't knock. I shoved them open.

The office was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glowing Chicago skyline.

Sitting behind a sleek, modern glass desk was Jonathan. He had taken off his tuxedo jacket and was pouring a glass of scotch.

Sitting on the leather sofa, her feet resting on the coffee table, was Vanessa.

They both froze, staring at me in absolute shock.

I looked like a ghost. I was covered in soot, mud, and rain, holding a bloody tire iron.

“Rebecca?” Jonathan breathed, the glass of scotch slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor.

“You missed,” I said, my voice dead flat.

Vanessa scrambled off the sofa, reaching for the small pistol she had left on the coffee table.

“Don't even think about it,” I snarled, raising the tire iron and taking a step toward her.

Vanessa hesitated, her eyes darting between me and the weapon.

Jonathan recovered his composure quickly. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, though the cruel, calculating glint in his eyes remained.

“Rebecca, put that down,” Jonathan said smoothly. “Let’s talk about this. You survived the fire. That’s wonderful. We can come to an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “You burned my mother’s inn to the ground. You tried to burn your own daughter alive.”

Jonathan’s face hardened. “Lucy is collateral damage. She’s poisoned by your mother’s sentimentality. I couldn't leave loose ends.”

I felt a surge of pure, blinding hatred. He didn't even care.

I walked straight toward his glass desk.

On the desk, his laptop was open, displaying the confirmation screen of the offshore cryptocurrency transfer.

Transfer Pending. Settlement in 01:23:45.

“I’m not here to negotiate, Jonathan,” I said, gripping the edge of the laptop. “I’m here to cancel the transfer.”

Jonathan laughed. “You can’t. It requires a dual-factor biometric authorization to cancel. Only my fingerprint can stop it now. And you aren't strong enough to force me.”

He was right. I couldn't drag his hand to the scanner.

“Shoot her, Vanessa,” Jonathan ordered coldly.

Vanessa picked up the pistol, aiming it directly at my chest.

“Goodbye, Rebecca,” Vanessa smiled.

She pulled the trigger.

Click.

The gun didn't fire.

Vanessa frowned, pulling the trigger again. Click. Click.

“What the hell?” Vanessa muttered, staring at the weapon.

“Did you really think my mother only left me a flash drive?” I asked softly.

Jonathan and Vanessa both looked at me, confused.

“My mother knew the Coles were dangerous,” I said, stepping away from the desk. “She knew they were violent. So before she died, she paid a visit to your father’s armory, Vanessa. She didn't just steal the ledger. She swapped out the firing pins in half the weapons your family uses for security.”

It was a total lie. I had no idea why the gun jammed. But it was the only distraction I had.

Vanessa stared at the gun in horror, dropping it onto the floor as if it burned her.

Jonathan cursed, lunging across the desk toward me.

I didn't swing the tire iron at him.

I swung it directly down onto his open laptop.

The heavy iron smashed through the screen, shattering the glass and cracking the motherboard in half. Sparks flew as the machine died instantly.

“No!” Jonathan screamed, grabbing the ruined laptop.

“The terminal is dead, Jonathan,” I said coldly. “You can’t cancel it, but neither can the clearinghouse. It’s flagged as a corrupted transfer. The money bounces back to the original accounts.”

“You stupid bitch!” Jonathan roared, his charming facade completely gone, revealing the violent monster underneath.

He threw himself across the desk, grabbing my throat. His hands were incredibly strong, crushing my windpipe. He slammed me backward into the heavy glass window.

I choked, dropping the tire iron as my hands scrabbled uselessly at his wrists.

“I built this empire!” Jonathan screamed, spit flying from his lips. “I won't let you take it from me!”

Black spots danced in my vision. My lungs burned.