Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WHO REFUSED TO RUN
I was staying in a small apartment Margaret had arranged when Victor called.
His voice was smooth.
Almost friendly.
“Elena Morales.”
I froze.
“Victor.”
He chuckled.
“Your father had a habit of asking questions.”
My stomach tightened.
“And you had a habit of murdering people who answered them.”
Silence.
Then he laughed.
“You sound like Rafael.”
My eyes filled.
“What do you want?”
“The ledger.”
“No.”
“You don't understand what you're holding.”
“I understand enough.”
Victor's voice hardened.
“Give it to me, and you walk away.”
I looked toward the window.
“And if I don't?”
He paused.
“Then you'll learn why your father should have stayed quiet.”
I ended the call.
My hands shook.
But I didn't run.
Instead, I called Detective Rebecca Sloan, who had been assigned to the investigation.
I gave her the recording.
The ledger copies.
And everything I knew.
Then I called Julian.
He answered immediately.
“Elena?”
“Victor called me.”
His voice changed.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
I told him.
Julian went silent.
Then he whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I frowned.
“For what?”
“For bringing you into this.”
I looked at the photograph of my father.
“You didn't.”
I swallowed.
“My father was in this long before I met you.”
Julian said nothing.
Then I added quietly, “But you can help me finish what he started.”
His voice softened.
“Anything.”
May you like
I closed my eyes.
“Then tell the truth.”
