He glanced toward Gerald.
“Li Wei's recording mentions one name.”
Gerald's eyes widened.
Whitney asked:
“Whose?”
Victor didn't answer.
Claire did.
“Gerald Covington.”
The restaurant fell silent.
Gerald stood again.
This time, there was no anger in his expression.
Only fear.
“You need to leave,” he whispered.
Whitney stared at him.
“Why?”
Gerald looked at the USB drive.
Then at her.
“Because if you hear that recording…”
He stopped.
Whitney waited.
Gerald swallowed.
“…you'll understand why your grandmother spent her entire life trying to keep you away from this.”
Outside the restaurant, a black SUV had stopped at the curb.
Inside it, two men watched the windows.
One of them raised a phone.
“She's here.”
A voice answered through the speaker.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“And the drive?”
The man looked through the glass.
He saw Whitney holding the USB.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then the voice said:
“Get it.”
The man opened the car door.
Inside the restaurant, Whitney had no idea that someone had just come for her.
And this time, they weren't coming to make a bet.
Whitney stared at the USB drive.
It was so small.
Barely larger than the tip of her thumb.
Yet everyone at the table was looking at it as though it contained a weapon.
Perhaps, in a way, it did.
“What exactly is on it?” Whitney asked.
Victor didn't answer immediately.
He looked toward Claire.
Claire shook her head.
“Tell her.”
Victor sighed.
“We don't know everything.”
“You said there was a recording.”
“There is.”
“And you heard it.”
“Yes.”
“Then what don't you know?”
Victor placed both hands on the table.
“The file appears damaged.”
Whitney frowned.
“How damaged?”
“We can hear a voice for approximately eleven seconds.”
“Whose?”
“Li Wei's.”
Whitney looked at the drive again.
“And after that?”
“Static.”
“That's it?”
“No.”
Victor's expression became serious.
“We also heard your grandmother.”
Whitney's breath caught.
“My grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Her voice appears in the background.”
Whitney looked at Claire.
“You've heard her?”
Claire nodded.
“Once.”
“Once?”
“Enough to recognize her.”
Whitney swallowed.
“What did she say?”
Victor looked at the restaurant around them.
“Not here.”
Whitney frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because we may not be alone.”
That sentence changed the atmosphere instantly.
Victor glanced toward the front windows.
Whitney followed his gaze.
Outside, cars passed normally.
People walked along the sidewalk.
Nothing appeared unusual.
But Victor kept watching.
“Who are you expecting?”
“Anyone who wants that drive.”
Gerald suddenly laughed.
“Here we go again.”
Victor looked at him.
“You think this is funny?”
“I think you're creating a conspiracy out of nothing.”
“Then explain why someone followed you here.”
Gerald's face tightened.
“What?”
Victor pointed toward the window.
“Black SUV.”
Gerald turned.
Whitney looked too.
The vehicle was parked across the street.
No one appeared to be inside.
Gerald stared for several seconds.
Then he looked away.
“I don't see anything.”
Victor nodded.
“Of course you don't.”
Whitney looked at Claire.
“Is that why you told me to leave?”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Because I think you're in danger.”
Whitney felt a chill move through her.
She looked at the restaurant entrance.
There were no police.
No security.
Only customers and staff.
Yet suddenly she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching.
Daniel, the manager, approached the table.
“Whitney.”
She turned.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“I'm fine.”
Daniel looked toward Victor.
Then Gerald.
Then Claire.
“I don't know what's happening here.”
“Neither do I,” Whitney admitted.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“But if you need help, tell me.”
Whitney smiled.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and walked away.
Victor waited until he was gone.
“Do you trust him?”
Whitney looked confused.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn't I?”
Victor didn't answer.
He simply said:
“Be careful.”
Whitney's patience was beginning to disappear.
“Everyone keeps telling me to be careful, but nobody is telling me what I'm supposed to be afraid of.”
Victor looked at her.
“Your grandmother.”
Whitney stiffened.
“What about her?”
“She didn't disappear from this world quietly.”
“What does that mean?”
Victor opened the folder.
“She spent years collecting evidence.”
“Against Gerald?”
“Against several people.”
“Who?”
“Developers. Investors. Bankers. Lawyers.”
Whitney stared.
“And she gave it to you?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
Victor reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a handwritten letter.
Whitney recognized the handwriting immediately.
Her grandmother's.
She grabbed it.
The paper was yellowed with age.
There were only a few lines.
Whitney read silently.
Victor,
If you are reading this, then I have failed to keep the truth buried.
Do not trust anyone who tells you Li Wei's death was an accident.
The documents are safe.
The girl knows more than she realizes.
She was taught the language for a reason.
Whitney's hands began trembling.
She read the final line.
When the time comes, let her choose.
Whitney looked up.
“What does this mean?”
Victor's voice was quiet.
“I think your grandmother knew you would eventually become involved.”
“No.”
Whitney shook her head.
“She couldn't have.”
“Why not?”
“Because she spent my entire childhood telling me to stay away from business.”
Victor nodded.
“Exactly.”
Whitney looked at him.
“She wanted me to become a nurse.”
Claire smiled faintly.
“She wanted you to have a quiet life.”
Whitney looked at the letter.
“But she knew that might not happen.”
“No,” Victor said.
“She knew eventually someone would come looking for you.”
Gerald suddenly spoke.
“Enough.”
Everyone turned.
He looked exhausted.
“You're using a dead woman to manipulate her.”
Victor shook his head.
“I'm showing her the truth.”
“You don't know the truth.”
Gerald looked directly at Whitney.
“You think you know me because you've heard a few accusations?”
Whitney said nothing.
“I've built businesses honestly.”
Victor laughed.
“Honestly?”
Gerald ignored him.
“I employ thousands of people.”
“That doesn't make you innocent.”
“I've donated millions to charities.”
Whitney looked at him.
“That doesn't make you innocent either.”
Gerald's eyes hardened.
“You really believe all this?”
Whitney took a breath.
“I don't know what I believe.”
She held up the letter.
“But I know my grandmother wrote this.”
Gerald stared at it.
Something about his expression changed.
Whitney noticed.
“You knew her.”
Gerald looked away.
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You knew my grandmother.”
Gerald remained silent.
Whitney stood.
“Tell me.”
Gerald didn't respond.
“Tell me how.”
Still nothing.
Whitney walked closer.