822 "She Thought He Was Just a Wealthy Boss Who Pity-Fed Her on Christmas Eve—Until Armed Assassins Stormed the Restaurant, Revealing His Secret Billionaire Identity, a Hidden Subterranean Vault, and a Deadly Corporate War She Was Dragged Into!"

“Grace... if you’re hearing this... do not go back up to the street.”

James’s voice was raspy, broken by a sharp cough, but unmistakably his.

“James!” I cried out, leaning toward the dashboard speaker. “James, where are you? Are you alive?”

“I’m... hanging on,” he breathed heavily, the sound of labored breathing and distant shouting echoing in the background of the transmission. “The tunnel you’re in... it leads to the old municipal water vaults beneath the river. It’s the only way out of the district before the board locks down the grid.”

“I’m not leaving you there to die,” I snapped back, my voice fierce and trembling with unshed tears. “I have the car, I have your keys—tell me how to get back up—”

“Listen to me, Grace!” James interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp with an authority that brooked no argument. “If you come back up here, you and Chloe die. That’s an order. Sterling’s men aren't just here for the restaurant; they’re looking for the hard drive hidden inside the sub-level terminal. The ledger of every transaction the board made over the last decade.”

My blood ran cold. The ledger.

“You knew,” I whispered, staring into the dark brick corridor ahead. “You knew who was coming when you hired me. You knew my background.”

“I knew you were the best forensic analyst in the state before your ex tried to bury you,” James replied softly, a faint, weary chuckle escaping his lips. “And I knew you were the only person in this city who wouldn't back down when things got ugly. The iron gate in front of you... use the ignition key to open the manual lock box on the left pillar. Inside is a flash drive.”

I put the car in park, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pushed the door open. The damp, cold air of the underground vault hit my face like a physical blow.

I rushed to the left pillar. There was a small, locked metal box set into the brickwork. I slid James’s heavy silver car key into the keyhole and turned it.

Click.

The box popped open. Inside rested a small, black titanium flash drive blinking with a steady blue light.

“I have it,” I said into the car’s open speakerphone.

“Good,” James said, his voice growing fainter, the background noise in his transmission sounding closer, sharper—like the sound of boots marching down a concrete hallway. “Plug it into the car’s diagnostic port. It will override the gate and upload the decryption key to the federal authorities. Grace... make sure Chloe gets out.”

“James? James!”