Chapter 6 - THE VENTILATION SHAFT
The clock in Marcus’s truck read 11:45 PM.
The three of us—Marcus, Ellie, and I—pulled into the deserted parking lot of Harrison Custom Homes. The massive brick building, the one I had helped buy and renovate, sat completely dark under the moonlight.
I had left Daniel pinned against his own SUV, threatening to call the police if he followed us. I knew it wouldn't hold him long. We were racing against time.
"Are you sure about this, Sarah?" Marcus asked, cutting the engine. "If we break into that safe, it’s technically corporate espionage. Dan could press charges."
"It's my company too," I said, opening the truck door. "And if I don't get that ledger, my daughter loses her home. I'll take my chances."
I unlocked the front doors with my master key. The office was dead quiet, smelling of fresh pine and expensive coffee. I walked past the reception desk where I used to sit with Ellie in her portable crib. We bypassed the drafting room and walked straight to the executive wing.
Daniel’s office was locked, but Marcus kicked the heavy oak door right near the handle, splintering the frame and forcing it open.
The moonlight spilled across Daniel's massive mahogany desk. Behind it was the solid steel door of the biometric safe, built directly into the brick wall.
"The blueprint," I said, turning to Ellie.
She spread the yellowed paper on the desk, shining her phone flashlight on it. "Grandpa's notes say the safe was retrofitted into the old chimney stack. The ventilation grate in the adjoining closet shares a wall with the safe's manual override panel."
Marcus didn't waste a second. He went to the coat closet, pushed Daniel's expensive suits aside, and found the metal grate near the floor. He pulled a pocket knife from his jeans, unscrewed the four corners, and pried the grate off.
"It's tight," Marcus grunted, shining a light inside. "I can't fit my shoulders in there. Neither can you, Sarah."
I looked at the opening. It was no wider than a shoebox.
"I can do it," Ellie said.
"No," I said instantly. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."
"Mom, look at me," Ellie pleaded, grabbing my hands. "Grandma gave me this blueprint. She trusted me to help you. Let me do this."
I looked into her eyes. She wasn't a little girl anymore. Tonight had forced her to grow up. I nodded slowly, my heart pounding in my throat.
Ellie took off her velvet jacket. She slid into the dark, dusty ventilation shaft on her stomach, holding her phone for light.
"Okay, I see the back of the safe," Ellie’s muffled voice echoed from the wall. "There's a red metal panel. Grandpa's note says to push the two silver pins and slide it left."
We heard a heavy metallic clack.
"It's open!" Ellie called out. "I see a blue leather book. And a stack of passports."
"Grab the book, sweetheart," I said, leaning into the closet. "And leave the passports. Let him try to run without them."
Ellie began wiggling backward. She emerged from the vent, covered in dust, clutching a thick, blue leather-bound ledger.
I took the book and opened it on the desk. This was it. The real books. Page after page of forged invoices, phantom contractors, and offshore wire transfers to Lauren's dummy corporation. It was the absolute proof that Daniel had manufactured the company's debt to steal the assets.
With this, I could clear my name. I could take the company back.
"We got him," Marcus whispered, looking over my shoulder.
Suddenly, the heavy glass doors at the front of the building shattered.
The sound of breaking glass echoed down the hallway. Heavy footsteps crunched on the shards.
Daniel was here. And he wasn't alone.
"Sarah!" Daniel’s voice boomed down the corridor, dripping with rage. "I know you're in there! You think you can steal my life's work?"
Marcus stepped in front of the office door, grabbing a heavy bronze bookend from the desk. "Get Ellie out of here," he whispered to me. "Use the fire escape in the drafting room. I'll hold him off."
I grabbed the ledger and pulled Ellie toward the side door of the office.
But as I opened it, a figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking our path.
It wasn't Daniel.
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It was the event coordinator from the gala. The woman who had let Ellie play the video. She was holding a suppressed handgun, pointed directly at my chest.
"Hand over the ledger, Mrs. Harrison," the woman said coldly. "Daniel doesn't owe Lauren the money. He owes my employers."
