My blood ran cold. These weren’t family photographs. They showed me, my business partners, my security chief—and men I recognized from confidential acquisition meetings.
Wendy stood behind Fiona. “Remember what Grandma taught you,” she said softly.
I reached for my phone. Then Arthur said something that stopped me.
“Does your father still keep the silver key in his office?”
Fiona nodded.
My silver key opened a private safe containing documents connected to the Chicago acquisition. This wasn’t some bizarre family reunion. They were using my daughter to collect information. I stepped away from the window and called my security director. “Lock my office. Nobody enters.”
A pause. “Sir… someone already did.”
My stomach dropped. “When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
I looked through the window again. Wendy’s phone rang. She answered, listened, then smiled. “We have it.”
Arthur immediately started gathering the photographs. But Fiona suddenly turned toward the window.
She saw me.
For one terrible second, neither of us moved. Then my seven-year-old daughter did something I never expected.
She shook her head desperately. Don’t come inside.
And behind Arthur, a door opened.
Jessi walked into the room.
My wife wasn’t shocked to see her supposedly dead father. She hugged him.
