Chapter 3 - LIGHTS OUT
Eleanor didn’t deny it.
That scared me more than anything.
She simply lifted her chin and said, “Private family discussions have no business being played at my birthday.”
I stared at her.
“You were planning to send me to prison.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic.”
“Four point eight million dollars, Eleanor.”
“You were never going to prison.”
Mark’s recorded voice answered her from the speakers.
“If the federal people get involved, she could do eight to twelve years.”
Half the room turned toward Eleanor.
For the first time, she lost control of her expression.
Joe rushed the stage.
I grabbed his jacket.
He shoved my arm away.
“Get out of my way!”
Tommy yanked the USB from the laptop.
The screen went black.
Joe stopped.
“Give me the drive.”
“No.”
“I’m your father.”
“Not tonight.”
Joe took another step.
I moved between them.
“You touch him, and I swear—”
“And you’ll do what?”
The room seemed to shrink around us.
I had seen Joe angry before.
Quiet anger.
Controlled anger.
The kind that came with slammed doors and broken glasses after guests went home.
But this was different.
He was scared.
Scared men with money are dangerous because they spend their entire lives believing consequences are things that happen to other people.
I lowered my voice.
“You’re surrounded by cameras.”
His eyes moved across the ballroom.
Dozens of guests were filming.
He stepped back.
Then every light in the room went out.
People screamed.
Glass shattered.
Someone bumped into me.
“Tommy!”
I reached toward the stage.
Nothing.
“Tommy!”
Emergency lights flickered red near the exits.
I heard Joe shout something.
Then running footsteps.
I climbed onto the stage, hands sweeping through darkness.
The laptop was there.
The microphone.
The cable.
No Tommy.
My heart stopped.
“Tommy!”
A hand grabbed my shoulder.
I swung around and slapped it away.
“Sarah! It’s me.”
It was my brother, David.
“He was right here!”
“Who?”
“Tommy!”
The emergency lights brightened.
People pushed toward the exits.
Joe was gone too.
So was Tracy.
So was Leo.
I ran into the hallway.
“Tommy!”
Nothing.
I checked the coatroom.
The bathrooms.
The side terrace.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered instantly.
“Hello?”
Breathing.
Then Tommy’s whisper.
“Mom?”
“Oh my God. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Downstairs, I think.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Stay where you are.”
“I can’t.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“Because Dad knows I have the USB.”
A metallic bang sounded through the phone.
Tommy sucked in a breath.
“Somebody’s coming.”
“Tommy, listen to me. Hide.”
“I already did.”
“Do not move.”
“Mom…”
“What?”
“There are two USB drives.”
I stopped running.
“What?”
“I made a copy.”
“Where?”
A door creaked on his end.
Then I heard Joe’s voice through the phone.
“Tommy?”
My son whispered one last sentence.
May you like
“The other one is in Dad’s car.”
The call went dead.
