Social Services

Richard’s car was parked askew on the gravel shoulder, its headlights cutting through the rain to illuminate the rusted iron girders of the bridge. The driver’s door was open. The engine was running.

But Richard wasn't inside.

I pulled up behind the sedan, my heart slamming against my ribs. I grabbed the revolver from the passenger seat and stepped out into the storm.

"Richard?" I screamed.

The wind tore the name away. I ran to his car. The interior was empty, but the passenger seat was wet. Someone had been sitting there. Someone who had dragged mud onto the floor mat.

I looked toward the bridge.

Two figures were standing in the center of the span, silhouetted against the roiling black water below.

One was Richard. He was on his knees, his hands raised in supplication.

The other was a woman.

She was wearing a long, dark coat, her hair plastered to her face. She held a gun—not my old revolver, but something sleek and modern.

Sarah.

But where was Julian? And where was Maya?

I ran onto the bridge, the metal grating slick under my boots. "Richard!"

He turned his head. His face was a mask of terror and relief. "Helen! Get back!"

Sarah turned too. She didn't look scared. She looked exhausted. And angry.

"You're persistent," she said, raising her voice over the river's roar. "I'll give you that."

"Where is she?" I demanded, leveling my gun at her chest. "Where is my daughter?"

"She's fine," Sarah said. "For now."

She nodded toward the far end of the bridge.

I looked.

Maya was there. She was huddled against the railing, shivering, her arms wrapped around herself. And standing over her, holding a knife, was Julian.

He looked up at me and smiled.

"Family reunion," he called out. "Isn't it sweet?"

I took a step forward. "Let them go. You have the money. You have the boat. Just leave."

"It's not that simple," Julian said. "It never is."

He gestured to Richard.

"Your husband here... he has something of mine."

"I gave it to you!" Richard shouted, his voice cracking. "I gave you the codes!"

"You gave me *fake* codes, Ricky," Julian snarled. "I tried the transfer. Access denied. Account frozen."

He grabbed Maya's arm, pulling her up. She cried out.

"Give me the real codes," Julian said, pressing the knife against her throat. "Or I start deducting tuition."

"I can't!" Richard sobbed. "I don't have them! Arthur changed them yesterday! Only he knows the new password!"

I stared at Richard. "Arthur?"

"He's not senile!" Richard screamed. "It's an act! He's been playing us all! He moved the money to a trust in Maya's name, but he locked it with a biometric key!"

"Biometric?" I asked.

"A retinal scan," Richard said. "His eyes. Only his eyes can unlock it."

I felt the blood drain from my face. Arthur was in the hospital. Sedated. Alone.

And James... the third brother... he wasn't just tracking me.

He was tracking the money.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. The burner.

I pulled it out with my left hand, keeping the gun trained on Sarah.

A text from *Unknown*.

*The old man is awake. And he's very talkative.*

I looked at Julian. He was staring at my phone.

"Who is that?" he demanded.

"Your brother," I said. "James."

Julian's face went white. "James is in London."

"No," I said. "He's at St. Mary's Hospital. With your father."

I held up the phone.

"And he just got the codes."

Julian froze. Sarah lowered her gun.

For a second, the only sound was the river and the rain.

Then, a siren wailed in the distance. Not police.

An ambulance. Racing *away* from the hospital.

"He's taking him," I realized. "James is taking Arthur."

"To where?" Richard asked.

"To the bank," Julian whispered. "To the offshore terminal in the city. If he gets Arthur there... he drains the account. And we get nothing."

He looked at Maya. Then at Sarah.

He shoved Maya away. She stumbled, falling into Richard's arms.

"Go!" Julian shouted to Sarah. "Get to the car! We have to beat him there!"

They ran. Sarah jumped into the sedan, Julian diving into the passenger seat. The car screeched, tires spinning, and roared away toward the city.

I stood on the bridge, the rain soaking me to the bone. Maya was sobbing into Richard's chest.

We were alive.

But the nightmare wasn't over.

James had Arthur. Julian was chasing them.

And the money—the blood money that had destroyed three generations—was about to disappear forever.

Unless I stopped them.

"Get in the car," I told Richard. "We're going to the bank."

"Helen, no," he begged. "Let them go. Let them have it."

"It's not about the money," I said, looking at my daughter's terrified face. "It's about the ledger. It's about the proof."

If James got the money, he would disappear. And he would take the secrets with him. Maya would never be free.

I ran back to the SUV.

I wasn't going to let any of them win.

Not Arthur. Not Julian. And definitely not James.

I was going to burn it all down.

And I was going to start with the bank.