Chapter 2 · He Evicted Our Sick Child So I Exposed His Empire

The severed edges inside the blue binder were razor-straight.

The service records for the seventy-two hours leading to the North Pier crash had been cleanly sliced out with a razor blade.

Three entire days of mechanical inspection sheets -- the seventy-two hours before the Starlight collided with the concrete pier -- had been cleanly excised from the archive.

I sat at the chipped laminate table in my drafty kitchen. In the small bedroom, Sophie was finally asleep, clutching her worn stuffed rabbit.

Someone with master administrative clearance had tampered with the duplicate records before the binder was boxed and archived. Someone had actively sanitized the timeline of the crash.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Martin Vance, the veteran chief engineer who had abruptly taken early retirement from the shipping line the previous week.

The line rang five times before a strained, gravelly voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Martin, it's Lena," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "I was unpacking an old duplicate binder from the office. Where are the mechanical sign-off sheets for Tuesday and Wednesday?"

A heavy, terrified silence stretched across the line.

"Lena... please," Martin whispered, his breath hitching. "You shouldn't have that binder. If you care about your little girl, throw it in the trash and walk away."

"Martin, people were injured last night. If something was wrong with the ship -- "

"Private security is monitoring the harbor," Martin cut in, his voice trembling with dread. "They made it very clear what happens to anyone who asks questions. Do not call this number again."

The line went dead.

Before I could lower the phone, three heavy knocks hammered against my apartment door.

I walked to the entryway and pulled the door open.

Evan stood on the narrow landing in a tailored trench coat. Beside him stood Arthur Cole, his lead corporate defense attorney, holding a monogrammed portfolio.

"Charming place, Lena," Evan said, his gaze flicking disdainfully over the water-stained ceiling. "Quite a step down from the harbor estate."

Arthur Cole took a half-step forward, extending a formal document. "Mrs. Walker, your recent contact with retired operational staff constitutes direct harassment and a breach of corporate non-disclosure agreements."

I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the paper.

"Bringing your corporate fixer to intimidate me outside my daughter's bedroom?" I said coldly. "You must be terrified of what Martin knows."

Evan's polished smile tightened.

"I am protecting Sophie from an unstable mother who refuses to accept reality," Evan said smoothly.

"Hand over any old company binders to Arthur right now. If you cooperate, I will ensure your professional standing in this town remains intact. If you continue this crusade, you will find every door closed to you."

I met his gaze without flinching.

"The stairs are behind you, Evan," I said quietly. "If either of you touches this door again, I am calling 911 and reporting two men trespassing outside my child's bedroom."

I shut the heavy door in their faces and threw the deadbolt.

Through the wood, Evan let out a low laugh. "Enjoy your pride while it lasts, Lena. Let's see how long your principles hold up when reality catches up."

Chapter 2

The severed edges inside the blue binder were razor-straight.

The service records for the seventy-two hours leading to the North Pier crash had been cleanly sliced out with a razor blade.

Three entire days of mechanical inspection sheets -- the seventy-two hours before the Starlight collided with the concrete pier -- had been cleanly excised from the archive.

I sat at the chipped laminate table in my drafty kitchen. In the small bedroom, Sophie was finally asleep, clutching her worn stuffed rabbit.

Someone with master administrative clearance had tampered with the duplicate records before the binder was boxed and archived. Someone had actively sanitized the timeline of the crash.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Martin Vance, the veteran chief engineer who had abruptly taken early retirement from the shipping line the previous week.

The line rang five times before a strained, gravelly voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Martin, it's Lena," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "I was unpacking an old duplicate binder from the office. Where are the mechanical sign-off sheets for Tuesday and Wednesday?"

A heavy, terrified silence stretched across the line.

"Lena... please," Martin whispered, his breath hitching. "You shouldn't have that binder. If you care about your little girl, throw it in the trash and walk away."

"Martin, people were injured last night. If something was wrong with the ship -- "

"Private security is monitoring the harbor," Martin cut in, his voice trembling with dread. "They made it very clear what happens to anyone who asks questions. Do not call this number again."

The line went dead.

Before I could lower the phone, three heavy knocks hammered against my apartment door.

I walked to the entryway and pulled the door open.

Evan stood on the narrow landing in a tailored trench coat. Beside him stood Arthur Cole, his lead corporate defense attorney, holding a monogrammed portfolio.

"Charming place, Lena," Evan said, his gaze flicking disdainfully over the water-stained ceiling. "Quite a step down from the harbor estate."

I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the paper.

"Bringing your corporate fixer to intimidate me outside my daughter's bedroom?" I said coldly. "You must be terrified of what Martin knows."

Evan's polished smile tightened.

"I am protecting Sophie from an unstable mother who refuses to accept reality," Evan said smoothly.

I met his gaze without flinching.

"The stairs are behind you, Evan," I said quietly. "If either of you touches this door again, I am calling 911 and reporting two men trespassing outside my child's bedroom."

I shut the heavy door in their faces and threw the deadbolt.

Through the wood, Evan let out a low laugh. "Enjoy your pride while it lasts, Lena. Let's see how long your principles hold up when reality catches up."