Chapter 3 - The Photograph**
Lang stepped into the quiet foyer like he was crossing a minefield.
"Claire," he said, his voice low. "I… I had no idea. About Daniel and Vanessa. Not until tonight."
I studied him. His hands were still trembling.
"You knew who I was, Robert. At the gala. Before I made the call."
He nodded slowly.
"I recognized the name. Your grandfather and I were partners once. I didn’t connect the faces until you spoke to Eleanor." He paused. "I should have said something sooner."
"You should have protected the company from the start."
He looked down at his polished shoes.
"I know. And I failed."
His phone buzzed once in his pocket. He didn’t check it.
"Daniel won’t let this go easily," he said. "He has allies. He’s been cultivating relationships—off the books, under the radar. If he decides to fight… it could get messy."
"Messy is fine," I said. "I’m ready."
Lang hesitated, then pulled a folded sheet from his suit pocket.
"These are the board members most loyal to him. Watch them. They’ll try to delay, dispute, demand arbitration. Be careful."
I took the paper. Names and notes were scrawled in his tight handwriting.
"Thank you, Robert."
He gave a sad nod.
"Your grandfather would be proud. Not that you did this—he hated public spectacle. But that you stood your ground."
He left me there.
I walked out to the car, driver opening the door. The night air was cool against my face. I settled into the back seat, pulled out my phone, and began drafting a statement—professional, brief, factual.
Then a notification popped up.
*New message — Unknown Sender.*
No text. Just a single photograph.
I tapped to enlarge it.
My breath caught.
It was the family farm. The one I’d grown up on. The one Daniel had always mocked as "that little country thing."
Flames were tearing through the roof. Smoke curling thick and black against the night sky.
My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles whitened.
The message timestamp was three minutes earlier.
A second message appeared.
*Accidents happen.*
I stared at those words.
Accidents happen.
I knew the land. I knew the buildings. The wiring was new. The systems were checked annually. Nothing about this was accidental.
I typed slowly, carefully.
*Who is this?*
The reply came instantly.
*Just someone who thinks you’ve made a terrible mistake.*
I stared at the screen. The sender knew exactly where to hurt me. They knew what the farm meant.
I called Eleanor immediately.
"Pull all surveillance from the farm gate," I said. "Gate cameras, road cams, everything within five miles. Now."
"On it," she said. There was no hesitation. "I’ll also dispatch a private investigator to the site. And I’ll notify the local fire marshal that we suspect foul play."
"Thank you."
I ended the call and looked out the window as the car pulled away. The city lights blurred.
Someone was sending me a message.
Back off. Or worse.
May you like
I smoothed the hem of my dress.
I wasn’t backing off.
