Part 33
The safehouse was a drab, concrete structure hidden deep within the forested outskirts of Virginia, completely isolated from the rest of the world.
It was a stark contrast to the luxury Victor Sterling had surrounded himself with, and a far cry from the warmth of our own home.
Elena was asleep in the adjacent bedroom, guarded by two heavily armed federal marshals stationed right outside her door.
I sat at a metal table in the small kitchen, staring at a flickering television screen that was muted, though the headlines spoke loudly enough.
"BILLIONAIRE VICTOR STERLING ARRESTED ON LIVE STREAM," the banner read, accompanied by a blurry screenshot of Victor on his knees.
The media was calling it the greatest corporate takedown in modern history, speculating wildly about the identity of the anonymous hacker who had exposed him.
They didn't know it wasn't a hacker. They didn't know it was just a mother driven by absolute desperation.
A soft knock on the door broke my trance, and Agent Vance stepped inside, carrying two paper cups of lukewarm coffee.
She set one down in front of me and took a seat across the table, rubbing her tired eyes.
"The grand jury is being convened as we speak," Vance said, taking a sip of her coffee. "The evidence from your server is airtight. There’s no way out for him. He’s looking at life without parole, minimum."
I looked at the coffee cup, watching the dark liquid ripple slightly.
"And his associates?" I asked quietly. "The Vanguard Board of Directors. The politicians he paid off. The judges in his pocket."
Vance’s silence was all the answer I needed.
She looked away, her jaw tightening as she stared at the blank concrete wall.
"It's complicated," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. "A lot of people are panicking right now. Some of the files you uploaded contain names that reach all the way to the Capitol. There’s a lot of pressure to... compartmentalize the investigation."
"Compartmentalize," I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You mean scapegoat Victor and let the rest of the hydra grow a new head."
Before Vance could respond, the lights in the safehouse suddenly flickered, buzzing violently before dying completely, plunging us into absolute darkness.
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The backup generators didn't kick in.
Outside the window, the distant sound of a cricket chirping was abruptly cut short, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thud of a silenced weapon firing in the yard.
