“Done,” she said, closing the laptop. “The guillotine drops at nine tomorrow, when the banks open. Get some sleep, Clara. Tomorrow they wake up in a desert.”

I tried to sleep. My phone vibrated in the dark. The same unknown number.

You missed a blind spot. Check his offshore LLC. He knows more than you think.

My blood ran cold.

Chapter 3: The Echoes of Consequence

The digital harassment began the next morning at 8:15 precisely.

Daniel texted me, his words dripping with the same condescending paternalism he’d used for years.