Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Brass
The Starlight Diner looked like a crime scene frozen in time under the yellow glow of police tape and streetlights.
The shattered front window where I had pressed my bloody palm was covered with crude plywood, and the neon sign that had flickered for twenty years was dark and dead.
Ethan waved his security team to secure the perimeter while he and I ducked under the yellow tape and stepped inside.
The smell of dried blood, burnt coffee, and damp plaster hit me like a physical blow. I halted near the front counter, my legs suddenly trembling as memories of the gunfire and terrifying screams rushed back into my head.
Ethan immediately felt my hesitation. He didn't say a word; he simply slid his hand down to weave his fingers firmly with mine, providing a steady anchor that pushed the shadows away.
"You don't have to look at it," Ethan murmured softly, guiding me past the chalk outline on the tile floor toward the back manager’s office.
The back office was a trashed disaster zone. Files were ripped open, desk drawers were turned upside down, and dusty shelves were smashed to pieces.
However, standing in the far corner, surprisingly untouched, was an antique mahogany grandfather clock that Arthur had brought from his home years ago.
Ethan stepped up to the clock, carefully opening the glass door that protected the heavy brass pendulum and hanging weights. He pulled a small leather multi-tool from his pocket and inspected the bottom seam of the rightmost brass weight.
"There's a hairline split in the brass casing," Ethan noted, using a delicate probe to twist the base.
With a soft click, the hollow bottom of the weight unscrewed.
Falling out into Ethan’s palm was a tiny, gold-plated micro-SD card attached to a piece of faded red ribbon.
I stepped closer, my heart beating rapidly against my ribs. "Is that... Jacob’s drive?"
"Let's find out," Ethan said.
He retrieved a secure, military-grade rugged tablet from his coat, slid the micro-SD card into an encrypted reader port, and initiated a decryption bypass script.
For thirty excruciating seconds, line after line of green code scrolled across the dark glass screen. Then, the screen flashed white, opening a structured archive directory.
There were hundreds of financial transaction logs, offshore wire confirmations, and audio recordings. But at the very top of the directory sat a single video file dated two weeks before my attack.
Title: For_Megan.mp4
My throat constricted. "Ethan... play it."
Ethan tapped the screen.
The video window expanded. The camera was grainy, illuminated by the dim light of a car interior.
Sitting in the driver's seat was a young man with messy brown hair, familiar warm hazel eyes, and a small scar over his left eyebrow—my brother, Jacob.
Tears instantly flooded my eyes, dripping down my cheeks as his image filled the screen.
"Hey, Meggie," Jacob’s recorded voice spoke through the tablet speaker, sounding tired but fiercely resolute. "If you're watching this, it means Ethan Parker found you, and my contingency plan worked."
I let out a ragged sob, pressing my hand over my mouth.
"I'm sorry I had to disappear without saying goodbye," Jacob continued in the video, his eyes looking directly into the camera lens. "I couldn't risk Vanguard coming after you. I found out what they were doing through Apex Logistics, Meggie. They aren't just washing money. They're planning an executive takeover of Parker Global by sabotaging Ethan’s primary supply networks and framing him for federal safety violations."
Ethan’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he listened to the recorded revelation.
"I hid the master evidence drive in Arthur’s clock because nobody pays attention to a broken piece of junk," Jacob said with a faint, bittersweet smile. "Ethan is the only man in this country with the power and integrity to take Vanguard down. Ethan, if you're listening to this with my sister... I know where Victor Vance is keeping the central server bank. It's at the Blackwood Estate in Asheville."
Jacob paused in the video, leaning closer to the camera. His face grew dead serious.
"They have me trapped in the lower sub-basement of the estate, Ethan. I don't have much time before they discover this burner rig. Get Megan to safety. Take down Vanguard. And please... take care of my little sister."
The video flickered and went black.
Silence descended upon the wrecked office like a heavy cloak.
I wiped the tears from my face, looking up at Ethan. "He's alive. Jacob is alive at the Blackwood Estate."
"Yes, he is," Ethan said, his voice brimming with a terrifying, icy intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "And Vance has held him hostage in my hometown."
"Asheville?" I asked.
"The Blackwood Estate belongs to Harrison Vance—Victor Vance’s father and the Chairman of Vanguard Holdings," Ethan revealed, his hand tightening around mine. "It's an impenetrable fortress nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains."
"Then we're going to Asheville," I declared without a second of doubt.
May you like
Ethan looked down at me, his eyes filled with a deep, fierce emotion that went far beyond business or obligation. He reached up, his fingers gently brushing away a stray tear from my cheek.
"We leave in an hour," Ethan whispered. "And I promise you, Megan... I will bring your brother back to you, even if I have to burn Vanguard to the ground."
