Chapter 6 - The Whispers and the Warning
The hallway seemed to tilt on its axis. Kevin’s grip on Annie’s arm slackened, his fingers dropping away as if he had been burned.
"What are you talking about?" Kevin whispered, the room spinning around him. "Lauren didn't have access to my office safe. That safe requires a retinal scan and a twelve-digit cipher."
"A cipher she watched you type in every night while pretending to read her architecture journals," Annie replied steadily. "She loved you, Mr. Morrison. But she loved you enough to notice when things started going terribly wrong at Morrison Dynamics."
Before Kevin could demand answers, his cell phone buzzed violently in his pants pocket. He pulled it out with a shaking hand. It was an encrypted text message from Miller, his head of corporate intelligence.
Boss, you need to see this. We ran Annie Reed's background. Her real name isn't Annie Reed. It's Abigail Vance. She's Marcus Vance's estranged sister.
Kevin stumbled backward, colliding against the wallpapered wall of the hallway. He stared at Annie—at Abigail—with sheer disbelief and rising panic.
"Vance," Kevin choked out, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Marcus's sister. You're his sister."
Abigail closed her eyes for a brief second, taking a long, shaky breath before opening them again. "Yes. I am. But I haven't spoken to Marcus in six years. Not since he started using Morrison Dynamics to launder funds and bury compliance failures from the Board."
"You're playing a game," Kevin said, his mind racing through a maze of paranoia and betrayal. He reached into his jacket for his phone to call security, to have her hauled out of the house in handcuffs. "Marcus sent you here. To spy on me? To finish whatever ruined my company?"
"If Marcus sent me here, why would I be the only person in fourteen months who could stop your sons from screaming themselves to sleep?" Abigail fired back, her voice rising with passionate urgency, cutting through his panic like a blade. "Why would I risk my own safety to tell you that your wife’s death wasn't just a tragic accident on the parkway?"
Kevin froze. His finger hovered over the call button.
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"What do you mean... not an accident?" Kevin asked, his voice cracking with a terror far deeper than any corporate takeover.
"The police report said the delivery truck lost control," Abigail said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a haunting whisper. "But Lauren's car wasn't hit from the side. The brake lines were severed forty-eight hours before she ever left your corporate garage."
