Chapter 33 - The Mask of an Ally
"Are you telling me the people holding Scott in custody are the same people demanding sixty million dollars from my children?" My voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the room like shattered glass.
Marcus didn't answer immediately. He walked slowly toward the nursery window, peering through the blinds into the rainy darkness below.
"Scott stole something from them three days before the federal raid," Marcus said, turning his back to the yard. "Sterling’s syndicate runs billions through municipal bond laundering. Scott skimmed off the top, but more importantly, he cloned the master digital ledger that connects the state task force to the offshore kickback accounts."
Marcus stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the floor beside my feet. He noticed the braided rug. It was crooked, displaced three inches to the left of where the rocking chair legs usually rested.
"Scott had forty-eight hours of house arrest here before the marshals took him," Marcus murmured, his eyes locking onto mine. "He spent eight hours in this room alone, pretending to assemble the baby furniture. Lauren... did he leave anything behind?"
A cold bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck.
Marcus had been kind to me. He had brought me groceries when Scott had locked my debit cards. He had called child protective services to vouch for my fitness when Scott’s mother tried to declare me mentally unfit due to postpartum depression.
*Do not give it to the feds. Do not give it to Sterling.* Scott's written warning echoed in my brain.
"He didn't leave anything," I lied, looking directly into Marcus's hazel eyes. "He left bills. He left eviction notices. He left a stack of medical debts from my emergency C-section and three infants who wake up screaming every ninety minutes."
Marcus studied my face for a long, agonizing five seconds. His expression softened, but underneath the sympathy, I saw a flicker of profound exhaustion—and fear.
"Lauren, if you're protecting him—"
"Protecting him?" A bitter laugh escaped my chest. "He treated me like cattle. He made me feel disgusting for wearing adult diapers when I couldn't walk across the room without bleeding through my clothes! I hate him, Marcus. If I had a way to bury Scott Hayes twenty feet deeper under the penitentiary, I’d do it with my bare hands."
Marcus nodded slowly, exhaling a long breath. "Pack a bag for the kids. I’m moving you to a safehouse in Chester County tonight. The state troopers outside won't hold the line if Sterling sends private contractors."
"Give me twenty minutes to gather their formula and clothes," I said evenly.
"Ten minutes," Marcus replied, turning toward the door. "I'll wait in the cruiser out front."
The moment his footsteps faded down the stairs, I dropped to the floor. I didn't take the cashier's checks. I didn't take the ledger.
I took the three encrypted SSD drives, slid them into the bottom of the baby formula canister beneath two pounds of dry powder, and snapped the plastic lid shut.
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If Marcus was clean, the drives would stay hidden until we were safe. If he was compromised, the only shield between my babies and a shallow grave was buried under baby food.
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