Chapter 2: The Digital Hangman
The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the weight of unspoken threats. Nathan’s gaze flickered to the phone under Elara’s hand. He didn’t reach for it, but his knuckles went white against the cane.
"You're a liar, Elara. A pathetic, cornered liar," Nathan said, but his voice lacked the previous bite. He took a step closer, the heels of his shoes clicking like a countdown on the tiles.
Elara didn't flinch. She felt the vibration of the phone against her palm—a rhythmic, insistent pulsing. Don't hang up, she prayed. Please, Dad, keep listening.
"Am I?" she countered, her eyes locking onto his. "Check the server logs, Nathan. The ones you think you wiped clean three nights ago. I didn't back them up to a cloud, and I didn't put them on a flash drive."
The room seemed to shrink. The air grew thin. She watched him wrestle with the doubt she had planted—a seed of paranoia that would rot him from the inside out. He was a man who lived by control, and the idea that something had slipped through his fingers—that he had been outplayed in his own house—was the ultimate weapon.
"You're bluffing," he hissed.
"Am I?" she repeated, a ghost of a smile touching her bloodied lips.
May you like
Behind him, the woman in the chair shifted. The ice in her glass clinked—a sharp, piercing sound that shattered the tension. "Nathan," the woman said, her voice like velvet draped over gravel. "Kill her. Now."
Nathan’s hand trembled. He wasn't just looking at a woman on the floor anymore. He was looking at a ghost, a secret, and a threat.
