Chapter 15 - The Call to the Ghost
The drive back from the federal prison was consumed by an suffocating silence.
Liam kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other firmly wrapped around mine. "We are not contacting Brendan. We spent two years purging him from our lives. He signed away all rights to contact you, to see Lila, to even set foot in this state."
"Liam, listen to me," I said, looking out at the rolling hills of Connecticut. "If Victoria’s Swiss injunction holds, the foundation loses its charitable tax-exempt status within seventy-two hours. That means the three pediatric cancer wards we funded in Manhattan will lose their daily medication deliveries. Hundreds of innocent children will suffer because of this fraud."
"We can find another way," Liam insisted, his voice cracking with protective anger. "I will liquidate my private tech shares. We will fight them in federal appeals."
"By the time an appeal is heard, Victoria will have looted the trust and funneled the cash through five Caribbean tax havens. She'll vanish with the child, and we’ll be left with nothing but court orders written on worthless paper."
I took out my phone.
In my encrypted contact list, there was a number I hadn't dialed since the day of our final divorce decree. A burner phone registered in Phoenix, Arizona, where Brendan had reportedly taken a job managing a budget car rental lot.
I tapped the screen.
The phone rang four times. Five times.
"Hello?" A dry, worn-out voice answered. It sounded ten years older than the arrogant playboy who once threw his empty scotch glass against my bedroom wall.
"Brendan," I said.
A heavy silence followed. I could hear the faint sound of desert traffic in the background, a squeaking air conditioner, the clatter of cheap metal blinds.
"Sarah?" His voice cracked. "Why are you calling this number? Did... did something happen to Lila?"
There was genuine panic in his voice, an instinctual terror that surprised me. The Brendan I knew never cared if his daughter lived or died, so long as his trust fund check cleared on the first of the month.
"Lila is safe," I said firmly. "Victoria is back."
A heavy crash sounded over the receiver, like a chair falling backward.
"Where is she?" Brendan gasped, breathing heavily. "Sarah, listen to me carefully. Get Lila out of that house right now. Get Liam, get Arthur, pack your bags and leave the state."
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"Why?"
"Because Victoria isn't working alone," Brendan whispered, pure terror dripping from his words. "Eight years ago, she didn't disappear in Milan because of a car crash. She disappeared because she stole thirty million dollars from a Sicilian syndicate using my father’s offshore accounts! If she is back in the United States, it means the syndicate tracked her down—and she’s using my family’s name to pay off her execution bounty!"
