The weight of the cryptic note feels heavier with each passing second. I pace back and forth in my apartment, the words “Stop digging” replaying in my mind like a twisted mantra.
Whoever sent the warning thinks they can scare me off. They’re wrong. I need answers-and I won’t stop until I have them.
My phone buzzes on the counter, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. It’s Isabella.
“Did you figure anything out?” I ask the second I pick up.
Her voice is calm but urgent. “I ran some analysis on that note, Alyssa. It’s written in a code your father used-one he only shared with people he trusted.”
I clutch the phone tighter, unease swirling in my stomach. “What kind of code?”
“It’s not just a warning, Alyssa. It’s a location.”
My pulse spikes. “Where?”
Isabella exhales slowly. “Your father’s old office.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. I haven’t set foot in that place since the day he died.
“Meet me there,” I say, already grabbing my keys. I have to know what’s hidden inside.
“Alyssa,” Isabella says, her tone cautious. “We need to be careful. Whoever’s behind this is playing a long game-and they’re not above killing to keep their secrets.”
I swallow hard. “I know. But we’re out of time.”
The drive to my father’s old office feels longer than I remember. Every block I pass is weighed down by memories-things I tried so hard to bury. His empire, his secrets… And now I’m about to open a door I might not be able to close.
When I arrive, Isabella is already waiting. She leans against the wall near the entrance, her face unreadable in the dim streetlight.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Not really,” I mutter, but I push open the door anyway. The scent of dust and old leather hits me as soon as we step inside, triggering a wave of nostalgia that I quickly shake off. Now isn’t the time to get sentimental.
The office is exactly how my father left it-shelves lined with books, a desk piled with papers, and the faint smell of his favorite cigar lingering in the air. But it’s the far corner that draws my attention.
Isabella moves beside me, pointing to a narrow wooden panel near the bookshelf. “There,” she says softly. “The code in the note leads to a safe hidden behind that panel.”
I run my fingers along the edges of the wood until I find the latch. It clicks open with a soft snick, revealing a steel safe embedded into the wall.
“What now?” I ask, glancing at Isabella.
She pulls out a small black notebook. “Your father always used the same sequence for his safes-dates that mattered to him.” She flips through the pages. “Try your birthday.”
My heart stutters as I punch in the numbers. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a low hiss, the safe unlocks.
Inside is a thick folder, yellowed with age and labeled in bold black letters: “Project Phoenix.”
“What the hell is this?” I whisper, pulling the file from the safe. I can feel Isabella tense beside me as I flip it open.
The folder is packed with documents-contracts, photographs, and detailed reports that span years. I skim the contents, my heart pounding harder with every page. It’s all here-connections, deals, betrayals.
And there, in the middle of it all, are the names I dreaded seeing:
Ethan Harris. Xavier Reed. And my father.
I stumble back, as if the weight of the revelation has physically knocked the air out of me. They were all in this together. Ethan, Xavier, and my father-linked through some covert operation called Project Phoenix.
“This can’t be real,” I whisper, my hands trembling. “What the hell were they involved in?”
Isabella leans over my shoulder, her face grim. “This wasn’t just business, Alyssa. This was something bigger-something dangerous.”
There are photos of secret meetings in far-off places, bank statements connecting offshore accounts, and surveillance reports tracking powerful individuals.
It’s a tangled web of alliances and betrayals-one that’s impossible to untangle at first glance.
But the deeper I dig, the more horrifying the truth becomes.
Project Phoenix wasn’t just a business venture. It was a covert operation-one that involved everything from arms deals to political blackmail.
And my father wasn’t just a participant. He was one of the masterminds.
I sink into the nearest chair, my mind reeling. “He lied to me. My whole life was a lie.”
Isabella places a hand on my shoulder, but it’s a small comfort in the face of everything I’ve uncovered.
“This changes everything,” I say, more to myself than to her. “Ethan and Xavier weren’t just rivals-they were partners. And now they’re both trying to keep me from finding out the truth.”
Isabella nods slowly. “If this gets out, it could destroy them.”
As I stare at the pile of damning evidence in front of me, a new question begins to gnaw at the edges of my mind:
Who killed my father-and why?
I flip to the final page of the folder, hoping for answers. But instead, I find something even more disturbing: a list of names, all crossed out.
All except one.
My name.
My heart pounds in my chest as I realize what this means. I was always meant to be the final piece of their twisted puzzle.
And now, the game is about to reach its deadly conclusion.