Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
The boardroom erupted into immediate chaos.
Arthur Sterling tore open the manila envelope, his eyes scanning the printed pages of bank transfers, offshore shell company registries, and forensic metallurgical reports detailing the micro-transmitters embedded within the platinum casing of my family’s heirloom necklace.
“Good Lord,” Arthur whispered, sliding the papers toward the lead investor. “Grant... what is the meaning of this?”
Grant stood up abruptly, knocking his leather chair backward against the wood-paneled wall. The mask of polished charm was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, snarling fury.
“This is a hysterical fabrication!” Grant shouted, his voice echoing off the glass walls. “She’s seven months pregnant, unstable, and hallucinating! The medical board already documented her cardiac episode!”
“My cardiac episode was caused by a high-frequency electromagnetic pulse triggered within inches of my chest,” I said, my voice cutting through his shouting like a scalpel. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, sealed evidence bag containing the modified pendant. “Marcus Vance confessed this morning, Grant. His workshop logs show you paid him fifty thousand dollars three months ago to hollow out the platinum mounting and install a remote-activated bio-signal emitter synced to my pacemaker model.”
Grant took a step back, his eyes darting toward the double doors of the boardroom as if calculating his chances of outrunning the building security.
“You wanted me dead, or at least incapacitated,” I continued, standing tall at the head of the table, feeling the steady, powerful kick of my daughter against my ribs as if she were cheering me on. “With me dead or medically incompetent, the emergency proxy would activate, giving you controlling voting rights to sell off Ashford Meridian’s most lucrative division to your secret Cayman Islands shell company for pennies on the dollar.”
The lead investor slammed his palm against the table. “Get security up here right now!”
Before Grant could make a run for the door, it swung open. But it wasn't building security who stepped inside.
Daniel Price walked in, flanked by two Chicago police detectives and a tall, thin young man wearing a brand-new winter coat that actually fit him properly.
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Noah Reyes stepped into the boardroom, holding a small custom-built radio receiver that was currently glowing with a steady, uninterrupted green light.
“Signal trace complete,” Noah said clearly, looking directly at Grant. “Frequency match confirmed.”
