My hands shake as I stare at my phone's screen, the unknown number flashing ominously. Three days since Victoria's disappearance, and this is the first contact.
"Miss Sinclair." The digitally altered voice sends chills down my spine. "I trust you're alone?"
I glance around Oliver's penthouse office, grateful he's in an emergency board meeting. "Yes."
"Good. Let's keep this simple. I have Victoria James."
My throat tightens. "Prove it."
A text message pings through – a video. Victoria, bound to a chair, today's newspaper beside her. Her usually immaculate appearance is disheveled, a dark bruise marring her left cheek.
"What do you want?" I keep my voice steady, years of corporate negotiations finally proving useful.
"Tell Oliver James to drop all charges against Quantum Industries."
