Chapter 3
My sister Sarah lived in a small white house with a porch that sagged and a dog that barked at everything that moved.
She opened the door at five in the morning, her hair sticking up in tufts, and stared at us like we were ghosts.
“Elena?”
“Can we come in?”
She stepped aside, her eyes wide. The dog—some kind of terrier mix with more energy than sense—sniffed at Lucy’s shoes and then decided she was acceptable, licking her hand with a warm wet tongue.
Sarah made coffee. Strong, black, the way I liked it. We sat at her kitchen table while Lucy curled up on the couch with a blanket and fell back asleep.
“You look like hell,” Sarah said.
“Thanks.”
“Want to tell me why you showed up at my door at dawn with a suitcase and a face that says someone’s trying to kill you?”
I hesitated.
Sarah and I hadn’t always gotten along. She’d left the city ten years ago, married a mechanic, built a quiet life. She thought I was foolish for staying, for working as a maid when I could have done more.
But she was family.
And right now, family was all I had.
“I work for Alexander Vale,” I said.
Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. “The billionaire? The one with the deaf kid?”
“He’s not deaf.”
I told her everything.
About Matthew. The way he watched, the way he listened. The gala. Lucy and the sign language. What Matthew had signed. The men at my door.
Sarah said nothing while I talked. She just sipped her coffee, her face growing darker with every word.
When I finished, she stood and walked to the window, staring out at her quiet street.
“You’re telling me,” she said slowly, “that Alexander Vale is faking his own son’s disability to cover up corporate fraud. And you and my seven-year-old niece are the only witnesses.”
“Yes.”
She turned to look at me. Her eyes were hard.
“Elena, this is insane. This man owns the police. He owns the judges. He owns half the state. What do you think you’re going to do against that?”
“I’m going to prove it.”
“How?”
“Matthew said there are papers. Hidden in his father’s study. Behind a painting of a ship. They prove everything.”
Sarah laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound.
“Oh, of course there are. Papers. Hidden behind a painting. Very dramatic. And how exactly do you plan to get into Alexander Vale’s private study? Walk up to the front door and ask nicely?”
I didn’t have an answer.
Not yet.
But I had to try.
For Matthew.
That little boy had been silent for so long. He’d finally found someone who could listen. I couldn’t turn my back on him now.
Sarah sighed, seeing the look on my face.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No.”
She rubbed her temples, muttering something about stubbornness running in the family. Then she looked at me.
“Fine. But we do this smart. No rushing in. No heroics. If those papers exist, we need to get them without Vale ever knowing we’re coming.”
“We?”
“You think I’d let my sister and niece take on a billionaire alone? Please. I may live in the middle of nowhere, but I still know people.”
She picked up her phone and started scrolling.
“Old friend from high school. Works in cybersecurity. He’s a little weird, but he’s good. And he hates rich people. Perfect.”
She made the call.
His name was Jake. He agreed to meet us that afternoon.
While we waited, I sat with Lucy on the porch. The sun was warm on our faces. The dog curled up at our feet. For a moment, everything felt normal.
“Mommy?” Lucy said, picking at a loose thread on her dress.
“Yes, baby?”
“Is Matthew okay?”
I took a deep breath.
“I don’t know, Lucy. But we’re going to help him. I promise.”
She nodded, like that settled it.
“Good. He needs a friend.”
My heart ached.
She was seven years old. She shouldn’t have to understand things like fear and secrets and dangerous men. But she did. And that was my fault, somehow. For working in that house. For bringing her to that gala. For—
“Stop it,” Sarah said, coming out onto the porch with two glasses of lemonade. “I can see you blaming yourself. It’s not your fault. It’s his. Alexander Vale’s. The only thing you’re guilty of is raising a daughter who cares about people. That’s not a crime.”
I took the lemonade. It was cold and sweet.
“Thanks, Sarah.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you meet Jake. You might change your mind.”
Jake arrived an hour later.
He was thin, with messy brown hair and glasses that kept slipping down his nose. He wore a t-shirt that said “I CODE THEREFORE I AM” and carried a backpack that looked like it weighed more than he did.
He shook my hand, then Sarah’s, then knelt down to say hello to Lucy.
“Cool rabbit,” he said, nodding at her stuffed animal.
Lucy smiled shyly. “His name is Thumper.”
“Nice to meet you, Thumper. I’m Jake. I break into computers for fun and profit. Mostly fun.”
He stood and looked at me.
“Sarah says you have a problem with a billionaire.”
“I do.”
“Alexander Vale. I’ve been following his company for years. Vale Corp’s numbers don’t add up. Not even close. Everyone knows it. But no one can prove it. He covers his tracks too well.”
“Matthew said there are papers,” I told him. “Real ones. In his father’s study. Behind a painting of a ship.”
Jake pushed his glasses up his nose.
“A painting of a ship. Interesting. Vale has a whole collection of maritime art. His father was in shipping before him. But there’s one he keeps in his private study. The Tempest. Painted in 1872. Worth a fortune. If there’s a safe behind it, it’s state-of-the-art. No one gets into that without the code.”
“Or without inside help,” Sarah said.
Jake looked at her. “What are you thinking?”
“Elena worked in that house for three years. She knows the layout. She knows the routines. The security shifts. Where the cameras are.”
“And I can handle the security system,” Jake said, already pulling his laptop out of his backpack. “I can hack into their network, loop the camera feeds. Give us a window. Maybe ten minutes. Fifteen if we’re lucky.”
“Then what?” I asked. “We walk in, grab the papers, walk out?”
“Not we,” Sarah said. “Me and Jake will handle the tech. You’re the one who knows the house. You go in.”
I stared at them.
My sister. A hacker I’d just met.
And a plan that sounded like it belonged in a movie.
It was crazy.
It was dangerous.
It was the only chance Matthew had.
“When do we do this?” I asked.
Jake’s fingers flew across his keyboard.
“Vale is hosting a charity dinner tomorrow night. Big event. Lots of guests. Lots of distractions. Security will be tight, but spread thin. Perfect.”
He looked up at me, his eyes serious behind those glasses.
“One thing, Elena. If Vale catches you in that study—”
“I know.”
I thought of the men who’d broken into my apartment. I thought of the look in Alexander’s eyes at the gala.
I thought of Matthew, all alone in that big house, signing for help.
“He won’t catch me,” I said.
May you like
I had too much to lose.
And too much to fight for.
