Erline didn't go to the dining room. She found a guest bathroom on the first floor and threw herself inside, locking the door with trembling fingers.
She slid down the door until she hit the cold tile floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, trying to stop the shaking.
She saw her suitcase, a small leather weekender, tucked beside the vanity. Her things. They had at least given her that. She scrambled over and unzipped it. Inside, nestled amongst a few changes of clothes, was the small, beaded clutch she had carried the night before. She fumbled with the clasp and dumped the contents onto the tiles. Lipstick. A mint. She ran her thumb along the silk lining, found the hidden seam, and pulled. The false bottom came away, revealing a slim, black smartphone.
It wasn't the phone Arnulfo had given her. It was her burner.
She pressed the power button. The screen cracked to life.
It vibrated immediately. Incoming Call: Verity.
Erline stared at the name. Hate, hot and pure, flooded her veins. She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear. She didn't make a sound.
"Good morning, little sister," Verity's voice purred. "Did you enjoy your wedding night?"
Erline bit her lip so hard she tasted copper.
"Don't think about running," Verity continued, her voice hardening. "And don't think about telling Arnulfo the truth."
"If you speak, or if he returns you like a defective product..."
A sound came through the speaker. A high-pitched, rhythmic beeping. Beep... beep... beep...
"Switch to video," Verity commanded.
Erline pulled the phone away and tapped the camera icon.
The screen filled with the sterile white of an ICU room. Aunt Meredith lay in the bed, looking small and frail. Tubes ran from her nose and arms. The rhythmic beeping was her heart monitor.
A hand-manicured, with perfect red polish-came into the frame. It hovered over the power cord of the ventilator.
"Aunt Meredith's care costs five thousand dollars a day," Verity said. "If you aren't Mrs. Bond, who pays that bill? Dad is broke. I'm broke. You're broke."
Tears spilled over Erline's lashes. She stared into the camera and mouthed the words: Don't touch her.
Verity laughed. It was a light, tinkling sound. "Then play your part. Be the mute little doll. As soon as the Bond transfer hits the family accounts, I'll pay the hospital for another month."
The screen went black.
Erline dropped the phone. She buried her face in her hands, a silent scream tearing at her throat. She slammed her fist into the tile floor. Once. Twice. The pain in her hand grounded her.
She hated Verity. But she hated her own helplessness more.
She sat there for five minutes, breathing through her nose. In. Out.
Then, her eyes changed. The fear receded, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.
She picked up the phone again. She didn't call anyone. She opened a hidden partition in the operating system. Her fingers flew across the tiny keyboard, accessing a secure node.
The screen turned into a black terminal with green text.
LOGIN: THE_GHOST
ACCESS GRANTED.
She wasn't just a mute antique restorer. She was the forensic accountant the SEC hired when they couldn't find the money. She lived on the dark web.
She didn't perform a search; she initiated a diagnostic on a ghost protocol she'd embedded in Bond Industries' network six months ago, part of her ongoing investigation for the SEC.
STATUS: DORMANT. UNDETECTED.
If she was going to survive this, Verity's money wasn't enough. She needed leverage. She needed a weapon. And in the Bond house, money was the only ammunition that mattered.
She would find the skeletons in Arnulfo's closet. She would find the illegal accounts, the bribes, the blood money. And she would hold it over his head.
Footsteps approached the bathroom door. Heavy. Deliberate.
Erline killed the screen and shoved the phone back into the hidden lining of her clutch.
She stood up. She looked in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes red. She splashed cold water on her cheeks. She smoothed her hair.
She put the mask back on. The scared, mute girl.
She unlocked the door and stepped out. She wasn't running anymore. She was infiltrating.
