Chapter 2 - The 6.jpg Moment
I didn't reach for the pen immediately. I let my hand rest under the paper blanket, my fingers still brushing the edge of my phone.
If a security camera had been perfectly positioned in that dim medical room—t would have captured the ultimate portrait of invisible warfare. In the image, I am lying on the pale hospital cot, clutching my glowing phone hidden beneath the blankets, my face a mask of calculated vulnerability. In the background, framed by the partially open door, Rachel hovers in the shadows of the hallway in her sharp pencil skirt, chewing her thumbnail, eagerly waiting for the empire to fall. And hovering directly over me is Mark, holding out a silver pen and a contract, wearing a gentle smile that hides a loaded gun.
"A proxy?" I asked, making my words slur just slightly. "For tomorrow?"
"Just a formality," Mark smiled, pressing the pen gently into my palm. "You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course," I whispered.
I took the pen. I let the nib hover over the signature line. Mark’s eyes dilated slightly. I could practically hear his pulse racing. He was seconds away from securing total operational control of Whitaker Logistics. He was seconds away from authorizing payments to the shell companies he and Rachel had meticulously set up.
May you like
I pressed the pen to the paper.
Then, the door to the medical room swung open so hard it hit the wall with a deafening crack.
