The FBI field office was a fortress of concrete and bad lighting.
Vivian sat in a plastic chair in a hallway that smelled like stale coffee and desperation. Lucian stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder, his jaw tight. They had been waiting for forty-five minutes.
"They're making us wait on purpose," she said.
"Probably."
"To see if we'll leave."
"We won't."
The door at the end of the hallway opened. A woman in a dark suit stepped out. She was in her forties, with sharp eyes and hair pulled back so tight it looked painful.
"Mr. Sterling. Ms. Wei." Her voice was flat. "Come in."
The office was small. A desk, two chairs, a filing cabinet. No windows. The woman sat behind the desk and folded her hands.
"I'm Special Agent Reyes." She didn't offer to shake. "You said you have evidence of corporate embezzlement and murder."
"Yes." Lucian set the envelope on the desk. "These are copies of internal memos, transfer requests, and email correspondence dating back eight years. They implicate Derek Sterling in the theft of over fifty million dollars from Sterling Group subsidiaries."
Reyes didn't touch the envelope. "And the murder?"
"The murder of Thomas Sterling, my father. And the death of Daniel Wei, Vivian's father." He nodded toward Vivian. "Both were killed to prevent them from exposing Derek's crimes."
Reyes looked at Vivian. "You're Daniel Wei's daughter?"
"Yes."
"Your father committed suicide."
"No, he didn't." Vivian's voice was steady. "He was threatened. Derek told him that if he didn't take the blame, he would hurt me and my mother. My father killed himself to protect us."
Reyes was silent for a moment. Then she picked up the envelope.
"I'll have my team review these."
"How long will that take?" Lucian asked.
"As long as it takes." She stood up. "Don't leave town."
They were halfway to the elevator when Vivian's phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
Derek knows you went to the FBI. He has someone inside.
Vivian stopped walking. "Lucian."
He looked at the screen. His face went pale.
"We need to get out of here."
"What about the evidence?"
"We have copies." He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. "We need to go. Now."
They ran.
The garage was dim and cold. Lucian's Mercedes was parked near the exit. He unlocked the doors with a click, and they slid inside.
"Who texted you?" he asked.
"I don't know. The same person who warned me about the car."
He started the engine. "We need a safe place. Somewhere Derek doesn't know about."
"Does such a place exist?"
"I have one." He pulled out of the garage. "It's not comfortable. But it's safe."
The safe house was a cabin in the woods, two hours north of the city. No address. No neighbors. Just trees and silence and the smell of woodsmoke.
Lucian parked behind the cabin, out of sight from the road. Vivian got out and looked around.
"This is yours?"
"My father's. He bought it years ago, before I was born. No one knows about it except me." He unlocked the door. "It's not much, but it has a generator and a landline."
The cabin was small. One room with a bed, a table, and a wood-burning stove. A stack of canned goods in the corner. Dust on everything.
"When's the last time you were here?" Vivian asked.
"Five years ago. The week after my father died." He walked to the stove and opened the flue. "I came here to think. To plan."
"Did it help?"
"Eventually." He looked at her. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."
"I was already in it. I just didn't know."
They spent the afternoon making calls.
Lucian contacted his lawyer, his private investigator, and the one person at the FBI he trusted. Vivian called the hospital to check on her mother. Clara was stable. She didn't ask where Vivian was.
"She's used to me disappearing," Vivian said after hanging up. "I work late. I don't call. She doesn't ask questions."
"That sounds lonely."
"It is." She sat on the edge of the bed. "But it's easier than explaining."
Lucian sat beside her. Not close. Just close enough.
"You don't have to explain anything to me," he said.
"I know."
"I mean it. Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're feeling—you don't have to hide it."
Vivian looked at him. At the shadows under his eyes. At the way his hands rested on his knees, steady and still.
"I'm scared," she said.
"Of Derek?"
"Of everything. Of losing my mother. Of losing myself. Of—" She stopped.
"Of what?"
"Of trusting you."
He didn't flinch. "That's fair."
"Is it?"
"I haven't given you a reason to trust me. I blackmailed you. I trapped you. I dragged you into a conspiracy that could get you killed." His voice was quiet. "If I were you, I wouldn't trust me either."
"But I do." She turned to face him. "That's what scares me."
He reached out and took her hand. His fingers were warm.
"I won't let anything happen to you."
"You can't promise that."
"I can try." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "And I don't give up easily."
At 7:00 PM, the landline rang.
Lucian answered. His expression shifted as he listened—from cautious to surprised to something Vivian couldn't read.
"Who is it?" she asked.
He covered the receiver. "It's Margaret. Derek's old secretary."
"What does she want?"
He listened for another moment, then hung up.
"She says Derek is planning to leave the country. Tonight. He has a private jet waiting at Teterboro."
"How does she know?"
"She's been watching him. Waiting for a chance to help." He stood up. "This is our opportunity. If we can get to the airport before he leaves, we can stop him."
"How? We don't have a warrant. We don't have backup."
"We have the truth." He grabbed his jacket. "And sometimes that's enough."
The drive to Teterboro took ninety minutes.
Lucian drove fast, weaving through traffic, his eyes on the road. Vivian held onto the door handle and tried not to think about what they were about to do.
"What's the plan?" she asked.
"We find his plane. We confront him. We don't let him leave."
"And if he has security?"
"Then we improvise."
She looked at him. "You're insane."
"Probably." He glanced at her. "But you're still here."
"Because I'm insane too."
The airport was small, mostly private hangars and corporate jets. Lucian parked near the fence, and they walked through a gap in the chain-link.
"His plane should be in Hangar 7," he said.
They moved through the shadows, staying low, staying quiet. The tarmac was lit by floodlights, casting long shadows across the concrete.
Hangar 7 was at the far end.
The door was open.
Inside, a white jet gleamed under the lights. And standing beside it, a suitcase in his hand, was Derek Sterling.
He was older than Vivian expected. Sixties, maybe. Gray hair, a face that had been handsome once, now lined with something harder than age.
"Lucian." He didn't look surprised. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
"You knew we were coming?"
"I know everything that happens in my city." He set down his suitcase. "I also know you have evidence you think will destroy me. But you're wrong."
"I have your memos. Your transfer requests. Your signature on every page."
"You have copies." Derek smiled. "And copies can be forged. I have very good lawyers, Lucian. They'll argue that you fabricated everything. That you're bitter. That you've been trying to destroy me ever since your father died."
"My father didn't die in an accident."
"No. He died because he couldn't mind his own business." Derek's smile faded. "Just like Daniel Wei. Just like you will, if you're not careful."
Vivian stepped forward. "You threatened my father."
Derek looked at her. "You must be the daughter."
"You threatened him. You told him you'd hurt me. That's why he killed himself."
"He made a choice." Derek's voice was cold. "He chose to protect you. You should be grateful."
"Grateful?" Vivian's voice cracked. "He's dead because of you."
"He's dead because he was weak." Derek picked up his suitcase. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to catch."
He turned toward the plane.
Lucian moved.
He was faster than Vivian expected—a blur of motion, his arm swinging, his fist connecting with Derek's jaw. Derek stumbled, dropped the suitcase, fell against the wing of the plane.
"That's for my father," Lucian said.
Derek laughed. Blood dripped from his lip. "You think this changes anything? You think punching me will undo what I've done?"
"No. But it felt good."
Derek wiped his mouth. "You're making a mistake, Lucian. You could have had everything. The company. The money. The respect. All you had to do was look the other way."
"I'm not you."
"No. You're not." Derek stood up slowly. "You're weaker. Just like your father."
He reached into his jacket.
Lucian stepped in front of Vivian. "Don't."
"Or what? You'll hit me again?" Derek pulled out his hand.
Not a gun. A phone.
"I've already made the call. In ten minutes, the police will be here. They'll arrest you for assault. They'll search your car and find the 'evidence' I planted there this morning." He smiled. "You wanted a war, Lucian. You just lost."
Sirens sounded in the distance.
End of Chapter Nine