Chapter 3 - Broken Porcelain
The sweet smell of royal icing had turned nauseating under the harsh kitchen lights. Sarah emptied the trash bag into a wide stainless-steel basin. Using a spatula, she systematically separated the smashed layers of red velvet and fondant.
Ethan had ordered this cake himself three days ago from an upscale bakery downtown—an odd request for a teenager who rarely cared about sweets. He had insisted on picking it up alone on his bicycle, claiming he wanted a specific design for his guests.
As her fingers pressed through the dense cream cheese filling near the thick cardboard base, her fingers struck something hard, cold, and metallic.
It was not a baker’s dowel.
Sarah wiped away the red crumb residue. Resting in her palm was a waterproof, shockproof thumb drive encased in brushed steel, wrapped tightly inside a miniature ziplock pouch taped to the hollowed center of the cardboard pedestal. Beside it lay an antique brass key, no larger than her thumb, stamped with the number *417*.
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
*The cake hadn’t been ruined by an accident.* Lily running through the room had caused Ethan to drop it, but Ethan’s hysteria hadn’t been about embarrassment. He was supposed to deliver this drive to someone at the party—or retrieve it before anyone noticed.
Suddenly, her own cell phone buzzed violently on the granite counter.
An unknown number flashed on the screen.
Sarah hesitated, her gloved fingers trembling as she wiped them clean with a towel. She tapped the green icon and held the phone to her ear without saying a word.
"You were always clever, Sarah," a distorted, synthesized voice purred through the speaker. "Much quicker than your husband ever was."
Sarah’s blood turned to ice. "Who is this? What have you done to my son?"
A low, mechanical chuckle vibrated through the receiver. "Ethan made a promise to settle an old family debt. He was supposed to hand over the key and the drive tonight during the chaos. But your little girl was clumsy. And you... well, you always have to be the savior, don't you?"
"Leave my children out of this," Sarah snarled, her voice dropping into a register of primal ferocity she hadn’t used in a decade. "Whatever Mark owed you died with him when he disappeared!"
"Mark didn't disappear, Sarah. He ran. But debts don't run away. They accumulate interest. Ethan understands that now. He’s been working for us for three months."
The line went dead.
Sarah stood frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear. Three months. For the last three months, Ethan had been irritable, skipping track practice, coming home late with dark circles under his eyes, and snapping over trivial matters. She had assumed it was adolescent angst, the trauma of an absent father, the bitterness of a growing boy.
She had been blind.
May you like
She turned toward the stairs. She didn’t need Ethan’s passcode anymore. She needed answers, and she was going to get them before sunrise.
***
