Chapter 10 - The Rendezvous Signal

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"He’s changed his appearance, but that’s definitely him," Vanessa whispered, looking over my shoulder at the iPad screen. "He got that scar in a car accident right before he left the company."
"Why now?" I slammed my fist against the nursery wall. "Why wait sixteen years to come after my family?!"
"Because sixteen years ago, he didn't have a reason," Detective Ruiz said thoughtfully. "What happened recently, Mr. Sloane? Think. Did your company make an announcement? An acquisition?"
Suddenly, the pieces began to click together in my head.
Two weeks ago, Sloane Infrastructure Group finalized a massive, $1.2 billion bid to acquire the historic Decatur Urban District—the exact neighborhood where our original office, Suite 417, was located. The acquisition required demolishing several block radius of old commercial buildings to build a new state-of-the-art transit hub.
"Decatur Street," I said, my voice cold as ice. "We're demolishing the old block next month."
"There's something hidden in that building," Vanessa realized, her eyes widening in horror. "Something Daniel hid sixteen years ago before he fled!"
My phone vibrated in my hand. It was an incoming video call from an encrypted number.
I looked at Detective Ruiz. She signaled her team to begin tracing the call, then gave me a firm nod. "Answer it. Keep him talking."
I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear. "Daniel."
A raspy, mechanical laugh echoed through the speaker. The screen flickered to life, showing a dark, dilapidated room with exposed brick walls and boarded-up windows.
"Hello, Mason," Daniel Price’s voice purred through the speaker. "Congratulations on the triplets. Three little legacy heirs. How poetic."
"If you lay a single finger on my family, Daniel, I will tear you apart with my bare hands," I growled into the phone.
"Oh, quiet down, billionaire," Daniel sneered, bringing his scarred face closer to the camera. "I don't care about your pathetic little babies. I gave Claire just enough poison to keep you busy while I got what I needed. But you interfered. You took Box 417."
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"What do you want, Daniel?"
"I want what’s inside the wall of Suite 417 before your bulldozers tear it down," Daniel hissed. "Bring Box 417 to our old office in one hour. Alone. If I see a single police officer, the second dose of that poison goes straight into your wife’s IV bag."