Chapter 2 - Shadows at the Door
The silhouette through the peephole didn’t belong to a cop, nor did it look like a casual nighttime visitor. It was a tall, heavily built man in a tailored dark suit, his face obscured by a low-brimmed cap. Beside him stood a woman whose poise was unmistakable even through the distorted lens—sleek, icy blonde hair, expensive designer coat, and eyes as cold as flint.
Victoria Sterling. Or rather, Rachel Collins.
“Open the door, Sarah,” her voice drifted through the wooden panel, calm, cultured, and devoid of warmth. “We know the package was delivered here by mistake. Hand it over, and we can all go back to our peaceful lives.”
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. In the bedroom, Chloe’s frightened whimpers grew louder. I backed away slowly, my bare feet silent against the linoleum. I couldn't open that door. Whatever was on that USB drive was dangerous enough to make a billionaire’s wife hunt down an impoverished ex-wife in Reseda at three in the morning.
“Mommy?” Chloe sobbed from her doorway, clutching the gutted rag doll.
“Shh, sweetie,” I whispered, rushing over and scooping her into my arms. “We’re playing a game. A fast game.”
I grabbed my purse, stuffed the USB drive deeper into my pocket, and grabbed Chloe’s winter jacket. The apartment didn't have a back exit, but it had a shaky, rusted fire escape outside Chloe’s bedroom window.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The door frame splintered. They were using a crowbar.
“Sarah!” Victoria’s voice lost its polished edge, turning sharp and predatory. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be!”
I shoved open the bedroom window, the cold night air rushing in. “Up, Chloe, quick! Hold onto Mommy’s neck.”
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I climbed out onto the metal grating just as the front door gave way with a deafening crash. Heavy footsteps echoed through the small living room. I didn't look back. Carrying Chloe, I scrambled down the rusty iron stairs as fast as my shaking legs could carry me, descending into the dark alley below.
We hit the pavement just as a man leaned out of the bedroom window above us, shouting into a walkie-talkie. We sprinted into the night, vanishing into the maze of Reseda’s backstreets, leaving everything behind—except the dark truth hidden on a flash drive.
