Chapter 14 - Lydia's Last Message
Lydia had left the foundation office at 6:17 p.m.
Security footage showed her entering a taxi.
She never reached the safe apartment.
Her phone went offline seventeen minutes later.
Police were notified immediately.
Carter’s security team began tracking every available camera.
Emilia stood in the command room beneath the Carter estate, furious at herself.
“I should have insisted she stay here.”
“You could not imprison her for safety,” Carter said.
“She was terrified.”
“And she still had a right to decide where she lived.”
Emilia knew he was right.
She hated him for being right.
At 11:42 p.m., Rachel remembered something.
“Lydia used to schedule emails to herself.”
Everyone looked at her.
“At Vale. She was afraid Seraphina would delete things. She’d schedule copies to send later.”
Alana accessed Lydia’s foundation account with legal authorization.
One scheduled message was waiting.
Delivery time: midnight.
They watched the screen.
At exactly 12:00, the email appeared.
Subject: If I get scared and change my mind.
The message contained an address.
A storage facility in New Jersey.
And three sentences.
I found the original complaint files.
Seraphina didn't destroy them.
Someone moved them.
If anything happens to me, look for Locker 814.
Carter immediately dispatched investigators with police coordination.
Emilia stared at the screen.
“Why would Lydia go anywhere alone after finding this?”
Rachel looked pale.
“Because she still thinks she has to prove she deserves forgiveness.”
That hurt.
At 12:26, another call came.
This time from Lydia herself.
Emilia answered.
“Lydia?”
Crying.
Breathing.
Then Lydia’s voice.
“I’m okay.”
Emilia closed her eyes.
“Where are you?”
“A police station.”
Everyone exhaled.
Lydia had noticed the taxi driver taking an unfamiliar route.
When she questioned him, he claimed there was traffic.
Then she saw a second vehicle following them.
At a red light, Lydia opened the door and ran into a crowded restaurant.
The taxi left.
The second vehicle left.
No one physically touched her.
No clear crime could yet be proven.
But the message was obvious.
Someone wanted her frightened.
“Did you see the other driver?”
“No.”
“Anything about the car?”
Lydia hesitated.
“There was a sticker on the windshield.”
“What kind?”
“A black circle with a silver L.”
Carter looked at Alana.
Langford Security Services used that logo.
At 1:08 a.m., police opened Locker 814.
Inside were six cardboard boxes.
Complaints.
Payments.
Photographs.
Personnel files.
And a list of wealthy clients whose private information had been quietly collected for years.
May you like
Near the bottom of the second box was a file marked:
EMILIA CARTER.
