Center: HR Director, Marston Ridge Solutions. Subject: Urgent. Mandatory meeting. Time: 8:00 in the morning. Body: Ms. Castillo. Your presence is required for an emergency disciplinary hearing regarding a conflict of interest complaint filed this evening. Please bring your company identification and laptop.
I stared at the glowing letters. They moved fast.
My father hadn’t just kicked me out.
He had launched a preemptive strike to discredit me before I could report the fraudulent loan. If I was fired for an ethics violation, no one would believe my testimony about the falsified valuations. I would be the disgruntled fired daughter and he would be the victim.
I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. The sadness was evaporating, replaced by a cold, hard knot of realization.
I looked at the passenger seat where my purse lay open.
Inside, tucked in a hidden zipper pocket of my wallet, was a thin, tarnished piece of silver.
It wasn’t a credit card.
It wasn’t a debit card.
It was a piece of metal my grandfather, Walter, had given me three days before he died. He had pressed it into my hand when my parents were out of the room, his grip surprisingly strong for a dying man.
“For when the wolves come,” he had rasped. “And they will come, Emory.”
I had kept it as a sentimental trinket. I had never tried to use it. I didn’t even know if it was active.
But right now, with my life dismantling around me like a house of cards in a hurricane, it was the only thing I had left that didn’t belong to Sterling and Diane Caldwell.
I put the car in drive.
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