96

The house was bathed in midnight silence when Liana Coleman's phone vibrated on the nightstand. She stirred beneath the silk sheets, opened her eyes, and reached a hand towards the glow. The message preview on the locked screen read:

Some daughters don't deserve mothers.

Her breath caught, cold fear trembling through her. She recalled the pain staying in Ruth's eyes the morning she left for the cottage—betrayal sharp enough to sever bonds of trust. Had Malachi broken into her phone again? Or was this a new stalker—someone local?

Liana opened the phone with trembling hands. The complete sight of the message was:

Some daughters don't deserve mothers. You never were enough for her.

Her heart raced. Guilt sparked: she had pleaded with Ruth, implored her not to leave, but when her mother was departing, Liana had dashed to assemble strategy instead of solace. Had she failed her in the quiet moments that mattered most? She pressed her palm to her chest, warm tears burning her eyes.

She scrolled up to look for earlier messages. Only two others:

I know what you did to Alex that night.

You believe he's on your side? Think again.

A chill wave of fear swept through her. Memories of her fight with Alex over the forged documents cavorted: her voice acrimonious, accusations thrown like knives. Had Alex turned against her? Her eyes locked onto his framed photograph on the bedside table—him smiling, arm around her. The thought of his betrayal caused bile to rise up in her throat.

Liana's throat tightened with increasing alarm. She tapped back and forth on the messages with shaking thumbs, then pounded the phone into the mattress, screen down. She closed her eyes, praying the darkness would engulf her racing thoughts.

Alex Cole woke on the couch in the hall where he had fallen asleep hours earlier. He startled awake, sat up, and started to massage his jaw. The bedroom door was open. Worry got him to his feet.

Inside, he found Liana on the edge of the bed, knees tucked to her chest, tears dampening her cheeks. Between her heels, face-down, lay her phone.

"Liana?" His voice was low, concerned. He got down on his knees beside her, placing a soothing hand on her arm.

She flinched, curling up, rubbing at her eyes. "Go to bed," she spat, voice gruff.

Alex sat down beside her on the floor on the other side. "Talk to me," he coaxed. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, shoulders shuddering. “It’s nothing. I’m just…stressed.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face so roughly she nearly pulled it out.

He reached for the phone. “Your screen’s cracked. What happened?”

She yanked her feet back. “Don’t.”

Alex froze, chest tightening. “Liana, someone’s hurt you. Let me help.”

Her breath caught. She opened her mouth and shut it again. Finally, she exhaled. "I got some.anonymous messages." She swallowed. "They said awful things—about my mother, about me."

Alex's jaw clenched. "Let me see.".

Trembling, she turned the phone over. The cracks spidered across the glass, but the message screen was intact. Alex scrolled carefully, reading the venomous lines. His jaw set. “This is Malachi’s work,” he said, voice cold as steel. “He’s trying to break you.”

Liana’s eyes flicked to his. “Or someone else,” she whispered. “Someone who knows too much.”

He gently pushed the phone at her. "You're not alone in this. I swear to you." He brushed her hair back from her forehead. "I'm here."

She closed her eyes, leaning into his hand for a moment before stiffening. "I can't… I don't want you to see me like this." She bit her lip, tears rising again.

Alex cupped her face. "You don't have to hide," he said to her. "Not from me."

She inhaled as if breathing in courage. Then she nodded once, her gaze meeting his. "Thank you."

Below, the hum of servers and harsh fluorescent lighting filled Leo Hartmann's personal study. He was standing before a bank of screens displaying network traffic. Ruth Coleman hovered at his elbow, her laptop open to a banking gateway with various account balances marked in red, green, and amber.

"Each patch we put on the firewalls, each two-factor update we pushed out—it's being probed again," Leo said, his voice tight. He typed at a keyboard; lines of code scrolled by. 

Ruth's fingers flew over her trackpad. "I've shut down all transfers and alerted international correspondent banks. But Malachi's network of shell accounts is a Hydra—sever one head, two more sprout up.".

Leo thrust a hand through his hair, alarm and frustration combining on his features. "He's relentless," he snarled. "We need to close off his access points—block all known IP, quarantine any new domains."

Ruth clicked open email logs. "He's been able to spoof our internal addresses. He's sending fake resets to key employees—bank managers, auditors, even some board members."

Leo's lips tightened into a grim line. "We need to verify every message with voice call verifications. No electronic resets without my approval."

Ruth exhaled as though freed from a vise. "I'll set up call trees. And notify the investors that no funds will be transferred without face-to-face approval."

He glanced at her, gratitude and fatigue in his eyes. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She gave him a sad smile. “We’re in this together. Always.”

Behind them, the monitors flickered as an unidentified login attempt materialized. Leo’s face darkened. “There’s another probe—this one from an untraceable node.”

Ruth stabbed the air with the cursor. “Block it.” She typed commands, but the node persisted.

He grabbed her hand, voice urgent. “We’ll call the cybersecurity team in the morning. Right now, let’s secure the weekend protocols—everyone on crisis alert.”

She nodded, steeling herself. “Agreed.”

Back in her bedroom, Liana sat on the edge of the bed, Alex still kneeling before her. The night’s tears had dried, leaving a brittle veneer over her exhaustion. Alex drew her into a hug, and she let herself be held, the sobs catching her breath.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his chest. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

He kissed the top of her head. "I'd rather you did that than have to face this alone." 

She closed her eyes, comforted by the sound of his steady heartbeat. "I'm scared, Alex. I don't know what's real anymore. I don't know who to trust." She pulled back and searched his face. "I thought…maybe it was you."

Alex sighed, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. "I'm not him," he whispered. "And I would never—" He paused, gazing deep into her eyes. "I would never hurt you."

She nodded, as if it were a vow being sealed. They sat silently, the silence broken only by the distant humming of the estate's generators kicking in as the power-saving mode took over.

Outside, rain began to patter on the roof, a gentle drumbeat that matched the residual flutter of anxiety in Liana’s chest. She watched the silver arcs of water race down the windowpane.

Alex rose, retrieving her phone. “I’ll have the tech guys trace the number,” he said. “We’ll find out where it’s coming from.”

Liana shook her head. "No—I don't want to give it any more life. I just want it to stop." She reached for the phone, her thumb hovering over the cracked screen. A new message preview showed:

I know your darkest secret. Sleep tight.

Her breath caught. Alex saw the preview and paled. He took her hand firmly in his. "Delete the thread," he said, his voice urgent.

She obeyed, long-pressing the messages, selecting “Delete Conversation.” The screen went dark. She set the phone face-down on the nightstand.

“Better?” Alex asked tentatively.

She nodded, but her eyes remained distant. “I hope so.”

Alex offered her a tired smile. “Get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll stay right here.”

Liana climbed beneath the covers. Alex propped pillows behind her back and sat on the bed's edge, guarding her. She closed her eyes.

Leo headed to the kitchen in the dark hall to grab a glass of water and halted at the empty pitcher's sight. The house, freshly fortified from electronic invasion, felt suffocating in its security. He rested a hand on the chilled granite countertop and stared at his reflection on the stainless-steel refrigerator doors—red-stained fatigued eyes, hair mussed from endless hours in front of the keyboard.

He should go see about Liana, he thought. Then glanced up toward the stairs to her bedroom. But guilt built in his belly—she was old enough to take care of her own privacy, and Alex was with her. He returned to the study, where Ruth stood by the servers, observing blinking lights.

"She's safe," Leo whispered.

Ruth turned, a look of concern on her face. "We need a better plan," she whispered.

Leo crossed to her, pressing a hand to her shoulder. “We’ll get there,” he assured her. “One layer at a time.”

Liana dreamed in fragments. She saw her mother’s tear-streaked face, then herself fumbling with the phone, endless texts warping her mind. Alex’s voice murmured promises of protection, then dissolved into static. She woke gasping, tangled in her sheets. Her heart thundered. She blinked at the dark room.

The phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Liana tensed, chest tight. She longed to scream, to hurl the phone into the wall. She reached a trembling hand to the bedside table.

Another vibration.

She flinched, vision blurred by tears. She took a deep breath, answered the phone. The screen lit up:

I'm closer than you think. Good night, Liana.