84

A cold wind rattled the lace curtains of Liana’s bedroom window as dusk settled over the Coleman-Hartmann estate. She swiped her phone for the umpteenth time, scrolling through emails and messages from the day’s meetings, when a new text pinged unexpectedly. The screen glowed with an unknown number:

Stay out of your father’s business—or you’ll regret it.

Her heart pumped erratically. She frowned, thumbs suspended before she fired a curt reply: Who is this? There was near-instant reaction:

You know what I mean.

Liana's breath had been taken away. Her practical mind dismissed it—a prank, or a mistaken effort to scare her. Yet as the outside streetlamps flickered, a shivering cold coursed down her neck. She shut her phone with a snap and put it beside her on her nightstand, determined not to let some crass, threatening message disrupt her. Tomorrow morning, she'd show Leo and Ruth the message—and laugh. That would put an end to it.

Downstairs, the library light remained late. Leo Hartmann sat at his massive oak desk, chin in hands, the air heavy with the scent of old tobacco and leather. Ruth stood at the fireplace, wrapped her arms around herself in imitation of the chill autumn night outside. In between them was stacks of financial statements and the late-comer memo from their adviser, Martin Sloan.

Ruth chewed on the lower lip. "He wouldn't just breathe of old resentments unless something's…occurring."

Leo raised his gaze, weariness etched in the creases on his face. "Martin was beside himself. He said he's received signals about offshore activity concerning—" His words faltered. "To someone from our past."

Ruth whirled, stepping to stand beside him. "Our past," she breathed. "He means Malachi Voss.".

Leo's hand trembled as he opened the memo. Line by line, he read of shell companies, shadow partner deals, and a familiar logo that he had vowed never to see again. The emblem was that of Voss Industries—Malachi's kingdom—now insidiously spreading investments beyond Hartmann's base.

"Malachi never forgets," Leo whispered, voice rough. "Ever since we outmaneuvered him on the Riverton project, he's been licking his wounds. And now he's coming back.".

Ruth's eyes sparkled. "He lost something besides money that day. He lost pride. And I lost faith in us—faith in our business." She grasped Leo's hand, fingers intertwining. "He's counting on your weakness. The bankruptcy, the suits…he thinks you'll crack.".

Leo closed his eyes to the weight of shame. "I almost got there, once before. Almost lost everything—my job, our company, even…us." He swallowed. "If he pushes us over the edge this time, it won't be just a matter of money. He wants to ruin my family."

A low thud sounded at the door. Martin Sloan stepped into the room, shoulders hunched beneath his wool overcoat. “I’m sorry to intrude,” he began, voice tight, “but I’ve intercepted a transaction—$2 million routed through Voss shell entities into an account that funds a private hacking division.” He met their eyes with urgency. “This goes beyond business. They’re building capacity to sabotage the Coleman-Hartmann network—hardware, software, everything.”

Ruth's breath was snatched. "They're organizing another breach."

Martin nodded. "Worse. Rumor is they've recruited mercenaries—both digital and physical. Their goal is to cripple your operations and scare the investors away so they can move in and buy them out."

Leo rose to his feet, set shoulders in spite of the tremble in his voice. "Then we must act. Legal injunctions, reinforced firewalls, emergency board meeting." He looked at Ruth. "And protect the family.".

Ruth placed a hand on his arm. "We will," she vowed. "But first we have to warn Liana.".

Liana pushed her door open gently, the hall light blinking out behind her. She stepped into the living room to find her mother and Leo and went over in her mind the anonymous message. She chewed on her lower lip, wondering whether to mention it now. She found them sitting near the grand piano—Ruth polishing her glasses, Leo reading the adviser's memo.

"Mom, Dad," she began, speaking even though palms sweated. Ruth glanced up, and Leo set the papers on the table waiting. Liana let out a sigh. "I got a strange message last night. Someone told me stay away from Dad's affair."

Ruth's hand paused against the piano edge. Leo raised a brow. "Show me."

Liana was passed on the phone. Leo read through the messages, his face a mask of pent-up fury. "This is not a joke," he breathed. "This is a threat."

Ruth extended a hand, reading through the screen. She put down the phone, her tone uncompromising. "You did the absolutely right thing bringing it to us." She addressed Leo. "Martin said Malachi Voss has returned to the board—he's sponsoring cyber attacks on us."

Liana's breathing caught. "Malachi Voss.that's who sank granddad's business, isn't he?"

Leo's lower lip shook with the mention of the name. "He's the one. And this time, he's striking us where it will most hurt." He took a breath. "Your knowledge, Liana, will be invaluable to us. You know the supply chains, the vendor networks. You'll help us secure every entry point.".

Liana nodded, determination flaring. “I’ll start first thing in the morning.” Yet as she glanced at her parents, she sensed the undercurrent of fear swirling around them—shared dread that this threat would shatter more than just their business.

She went back to her room later, shoulders back though her heart was racing. She flipped on her desk lamp and opened her journal. Pages were covered in rows of neat script—reminders, backup ideas, phone numbers. She stood frozen before the blank page, then jotted down:

Anonymous note. Malachi Voss. Protect family. Tomorrow, map all vendor firewalls.

Under the ink, the guttering candle cast jagged shadows. Each word was a heartbeat—a palpably acerbic reminder that the dead past had returned to torment them once again.

Downstairs in the drawing room, Ruth stood, silent next to Leo, who perched on the arm of a wingchair. The fire had burned low, embers glowing like distant stars. Rain lashed steadily against the mullioned windows outside.

Ruth placed her hand on Leo's shoulder. "You look tired," she whispered.

He leaned forward, closing his eyes in her touch. "I'm scared," he whispered. "This enemy.he won't play by any rule. He's personal. He takes revenge—for me, for you—for everything we took from him.".

Ruth put her glass of water on the coffee table and sat down beside him on the ottoman. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "We stole nothing from him that he did not give away," she murmured. "Voss gambled and lost. He chose to betray us and lost out. Our only failing was to live.".

Leo tilted his head, eyes moist. “Surviving hurts when you’re always looking over your shoulder.” He ran fingers through stubble at his chin. “I don’t want this hanging over our daughter.”

Ruth’s voice cracked. “Then we’ll face it together. We’ll lean on each other—on Liana.” She held his gaze. “We’ll show her that fear doesn’t govern us.”

He exhaled, a shuddering release. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

She pressed her lips to his temple. "I promise."

The silence that followed, the storm raging outside as if the night itself breathed, containing their fragile moment of peace. But at the bottoms of the room's corners, darkness gathered—ghosts of past betrayals and future attack, unseen but felt.

Midnight rang out in the grand hallway, each toll of the grandfather clock clanging out like a summons to alarm. Upstairs, Liana tossed and turned, images of glowing screens and blaring alarms intertwining in her mind. Downstairs, Ruth and Leo sat side by side on the settee, watching the fire die away and the embers burn weakly.

Ruth lastly got up, ironing the wrinkles on her silk dressing gown. "We need rest," she murmured, her eyes heavy with lost dreams. 

Leo also stood, picking up the wine glasses. "Tomorrow, the counterattack will start." His voice was unyielding, but the quiver in his hand revealed him to be wearied.