A soft knock broke the stillness.
Agent Sarah Chen stepped into the room, her presence immediately shifting the air. She was in her early forties, her posture relaxed but alert, dark eyes assessing everything in one calm sweep before settling on Annie.
“Ms. Whitaker. I’m Agent Chen. We spoke on the phone.”
Annie stood automatically. They shook hands, Chen’s grip firm, professional. Her gaze moved to Jack.
“How is he?”
“The surgery went well,” Annie said. “He lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable.”
“Good.” Chen nodded once. “I’ll need to speak with him when he’s awake. For now, I’d like you to walk me through everything, from the beginning.”
Annie drew out the locket. Even here, surrounded by medical equipment and security staff, it felt wrong in her palm. Dangerous. She began with the break-in at her shop and did not leave anything out—the attack on Eric, the fire, the chase through the mountains, Eleanor’s confession, the safe depositbox. She spoke steadily, the way she had learned to when the truth needed to be clean, not emotional. Chen listened without interrupting, occasionally clarifying, occasionally making a brief note.
When Annie finished, the room felt smaller.
“You mentioned Mitchell Security Services,” Chen said. “We’ve monitored them for some time. Publicly, they specialize in private recovery and security contracts. Privately, they function as a laundering hub and enforcement arm for clients who prefer problems erased rather than solved.”
“So Sarah Mitchell is running a criminal organization,” Annie said.
“Sarah Mitchell is maintaining a family enterprise that predates her,” Chen replied. “We have long suspected the Mitchell fortune was built through illegal channels. We’ve never had the documentation to dismantle it.” Her gaze sharpened. “If Eleanor Blackwood recorded financial activity, inheritance manipulation, or violence tied to early business interests, it may expose the foundation of that entire structure.”
A chill slid through Annie. They had not just uncovered a murder. They had disturbed a legacy.
“What happens now?”
“We obtain a federal warrant for the safe deposit box and coordinate arrests. Quietly, quickly.” Chen glanced at Jack. “We also establish protection. Ms. Whitaker will not be left uncovered.”
Jack stirred. His eyes opened, unfocused at first, then sharpening.
“What about her safety?” he asked hoarsely.
“Already in motion,” Chen said. “Protective detail is being assembled. Your parents are also under guard.”
Relief moved through Annie so suddenly her knees weakened.
“When can the box be opened?” Jack asked.
“I’m meeting a federal judge within the hour. If approved, First National will release it under supervision this afternoon.”
After Chen left, the room settled again into its low hospital rhythm. Annie remained standing for a moment, looking at Jack, the lines of pain more visible now that his eyes were open.
“You scared me,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“When I thought you were—” Her voice faltered. She steadied it. “I realized how little control I actually had over anything.”
Jack’s hand found hers. His grip was weak, but present.
“Annie… about what I said on the mountain—”
She shook her head. “I understand. Why you left. Why you were afraid.” She met his eyes. “But what happened tonight didn’t happen because you loved someone. It happened because someone built an empire on secrets.”
He was silent, considering that.
“The difference,” she continued, “is that this time, you didn’t carry it alone.”
