Chapter 6: The Number That Shouldn't Exist
The phone rang again.
No one moved.
The screen glowed between us, displaying the name that had already become impossible.
*Brielle.*
Marcus stared at it as if the phone itself were evidence of a crime he had spent years trying to bury.
Denise whispered, “Answer it.””
He looked at her.
“You just told her not to.””
“I changed my mind.””
“Why?””
“Because whoever is calling knows too much.””
I picked up the phone.
“Hello?””
Static.
Then breathing.
“Claire?””
I knew that voice.
Brielle.
I looked at Marcus.
His face had gone pale.
“Where are you?””
“Somewhere safe.””
“Are you really Brielle?””
A pause.
“Yes.””
Marcus stepped forward.
“Give me the phone.””
I moved away from him.
“No.””
“Claire, you don't understand.””
“Then explain.””
Brielle's voice came through the speaker.
“Don't let him take the phone.””
Marcus stopped.
“Brielle.””
She went silent.
Then she said, “I'm sorry.””
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Where are you?””
“I can't tell you.””
“Are you hurt?””
“No.””
“Then why are you doing this?””
“Because I should have told Claire three years ago.””
My throat tightened.
“Told me what?””
Brielle inhaled.
“That I was there when it happened.””
“When what happened?””
“The crash.””
Marcus whispered, “Brielle, stop.””
She ignored him.
“I was driving the second car.””
The room went silent.
I looked at Marcus.
He wouldn't look at me.
“You said you didn't know who was driving.””
“I didn't,” he said.
“You knew it was Brielle.””
“I didn't know she was still alive.””
Brielle laughed bitterly.
“I didn't die, Marcus.””
“Then where have you been?””
“Hiding.””
“From whom?””
“From the man who ordered the crash.””
I gripped the phone.
“Evan Rusk?””
“No.””
My stomach dropped.
“Then who?””
Brielle didn't answer.
Marcus looked toward the window.
“Claire, hang up.””
“Why?””
“Because you don't know who's listening.””
Brielle said quietly, “He's right.””
I froze.
“Who is listening?””
“Someone inside the company.””
Denise immediately reached for the conference-room laptop.
“Brielle, do you have proof?””
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“I sent copies to three people.””
“Who?””
“You.””
Denise stopped typing.
“When?””
“Last night.””
Denise checked her email.
Her expression changed.
“I don't have anything.””
“You will.””
Brielle's voice became strained.
“They're intercepting messages.””
“Who?””
“I don't know exactly.””
Marcus suddenly grabbed the back of a chair.
“Brielle, what did you do with the original?””
“It's safe.””
“Where?””
“You don't get to know.””
“Brielle—”
“You told me to trust you.””
Marcus looked down.
“I was wrong.””
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You were.””
I stepped toward him.
“You knew.””
“I knew there was another car.””
“You knew she was driving it.””
“I knew someone had followed us.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
He finally looked at me.
“Yes.””
The answer landed softly.
Almost worse than a scream.
“Yes.””
I stared at him.
“You lied to me for three years.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
“You protected yourself.””
“I was scared.””
“So was I.””
He looked at Naomi.
“And I was terrified they'd come back for her.””
Naomi stood behind me.
“Dad?””
Marcus turned.
“I need you to understand something.””
“What?””
“That night wasn't supposed to happen.””
Naomi's eyes filled with tears.
“But it did.””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you tell Mom?””
“Because if I did, she would have gone to the police.””
“And?””
“They would have found the financial records.””
Denise looked sharply at him.
“And you were more afraid of your financial crimes being exposed than your daughter knowing the truth?””
Marcus shook his head.
“No. I was afraid that if Rusk knew I had talked, he'd finish what he started.””
Brielle's voice interrupted.
“Marcus.””
He looked at the phone.
“What?””
“You need to tell her about the hospital.””
His face changed.
I felt something inside me tighten.
“What hospital?””
Marcus didn't answer.
“Marcus.””
He swallowed.
“The night of the crash, Naomi was in the car.””
I turned toward my daughter.
“What?””
He nodded slowly.
“She woke up before we got home.””
Naomi's face went white.
“I was there?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because the babysitter canceled.””
I stared at him.
“You told me she was home.””
“I lied.””
Naomi whispered, “I remember the lights.””
Marcus closed his eyes.
“I know.””
“I remember you carrying me.””
“Yes.””
“And somebody was yelling.””
“Yes.””
“Was it Brielle?””
“No.””
Naomi looked at the phone.
“Who was yelling?””
Marcus didn't answer.
Brielle did.
“Your mother.””
My heart stopped.
I looked at her through the phone.
“What?””
“You weren't supposed to be there,” Brielle said.
“I don't understand.””
“Marcus told you he had a business dinner. But you went looking for him.””
I shook my head.
“I never left the house.””
“You did.””
Marcus stepped forward.
“Brielle, don't.””
She continued.
“You drove downtown because you had found the first transfer.””
My mouth went dry.
I remembered that night.
A vague memory.
Rain against the windshield.
A strange argument.
Then nothing.
I had always thought it was a dream.
Naomi looked at me.
“Mom?””
I sat down.
“I don't remember.””
Marcus whispered, “You were hit.””
The room spun.
“What?””
“Your car was struck.””
“By whom?””
He looked away.
“The second vehicle.””
I stared at him.
“Brielle was driving?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because Rusk had forced her to follow me.””
Brielle's voice broke.
“I was trying to stop him.””
“You hit my car.””
“I know.””
“Did you know Naomi was inside?””
“No.””
Silence.
Then Brielle said something that made my blood freeze.
“But after the crash, someone came to my car.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“You said you saw him.””
“I saw his face.””
“Who was it?””
“I was unconscious. When I woke up, he was standing over me.””
“Who?””
Brielle whispered:
“Your brother.””
I stopped breathing.
I hadn't spoken to my older brother Daniel in almost four years.
Not since our father's death.
Marcus looked at me.
“You never told me Daniel was involved.””
“I didn't know.””
Brielle said, “He wasn't working for Rusk.””
“Then why was he there?””
“I don't know.””
The call crackled.
“Brielle?””
Static.
“Brielle!””
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Then another notification appeared.
Not from Brielle.
A video file.
No sender.
No message.
Just a timestamp.
*OCTOBER 3 — 11:42 P.M.*
Denise looked at me.
“Don't open it here.””
Naomi whispered, “Mom.””
I looked at her.
Her phone was in her hand.
The screen showed a second notification.
She looked confused.
“What is it?””
I took the phone.
A message appeared.
*You finally know about the crash.*
May you like
Then:
*Now find out why your mother was the real target.*
