Chapter 11
I didn't look at the papers. I didn't look at the crowbar. Instead, I slowly lifted my gaze toward the high, shadowed ceiling of the warehouse, specifically pointing my chin toward a dusty, cobweb-covered security camera mounted above the loading bay doors.
"You really think you thought of everything, Victor?" I asked quietly.
Victor followed my gaze. When he saw the old camera, he smirked confidently, shaking his head. "That old piece of junk? It was disconnected years ago. I cut the wires myself when I bought this property. You really are pathetic, Daniel."
"You're right," I agreed calmly. "That camera was disconnected."
Victor’s confident smile faltered. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"
"I installed the security system for this warehouse twelve years ago, long before Laura and I divorced," I explained, taking a slow step to my right, keeping myself firmly between him and Emily. "And three months ago, after Emily mentioned that you were aggressively asking questions about her trust fund, I decided to pay this property a little visit while you two were vacationing in Cabo."
Laura gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
"I upgraded the hidden fire-control sensors," I continued, my voice echoing coldly in the vast space. "They’re embedded in the ceiling joists. They don't record private conversations, Victor. That would be illegal without a warrant. But they do log physical data. They log door breaches, thermal movement, temperature spikes, and impacts."
May you like
Victor gripped the crowbar tighter, his knuckles white.
"Four days," I said, my eyes locking onto his. "Four days of continuous, erratic thermal activity and impact vibrations in an abandoned building triggered an automatic, high-priority alert to my company's forensic servers. That alert is exactly why I arrived today without warning."
