Jane Smith did not return to the city that had once betrayed her.
She moved like a ghost-changing cars, changing names, never staying in one place long enough to leave a shadow. Years ago, she had learned the cost of being visible. Mr. Armstrong had taught her that lesson with his life.
Now, she was ready to finish what he started.
Aham met her in a quiet lakeside house just before dawn.
When he saw her, something inside him stilled. She looked older than he remembered from childhood photographs, but her eyes-those were the same. Sharp. Knowing.
"You have his posture," Jane said softly.
"And his enemies," Aham replied.
She nodded.
Clara stood slightly behind him, watching every movement, every breath.
Jane placed a small metal case on the table.
"Your father trusted me with this the night before he died," she said. "He said if Don Pedro ever moved against you, the truth inside would end him."
Aham's hands trembled as he opened it.
Inside were flash drives. Documents. A sealed letter addressed to him.
He picked up the letter but did not open it yet.
"What's on the drives?" Clara asked.
"Everything," Jane replied. "Offshore murders. Corporate assassinations. Bribed officials. Including the sabotage that killed your parents."
Aham closed his eyes.
The truth finally had a face.
Elsewhere, Don Pedro was unraveling.
"Find Jane Smith," he barked into the phone. "I don't care how."
"She's erased herself," a voice replied. "No digital trail."
Don Pedro slammed his fist into the desk.
"She's the last loose end."
Kelly sat in a cheap motel room, staring at her reflection in a cracked mirror. Her phone buzzed again.
DON PEDRO: Come home. We'll protect you.
She laughed-high, broken.
Protect.
She remembered Aham's words.
He will sacrifice you.
Her hands shook as she typed.
KELLY: I want immunity.
The reply came seconds later.
DON PEDRO: You want mercy? Earn it.
Back at the lakeside house, Jane Smith played an old video file.
Mr. Armstrong appeared on screen, tired but resolute.
"If you're seeing this, Aham... then I failed to protect you. Don Pedro is not your uncle. He is your executioner."
Aham's chest tightened.
"Trust Jane. Trust no one else."
The video ended.
Silence followed.
"This can't leak all at once," Clara said carefully. "If we rush it, he'll vanish."
Jane smiled thinly. "That's why we won't rush."
That night, Don Pedro sent men.
They didn't make it inside.
By the time police arrived, the house was empty-no Aham, no Clara, no Jane. Only a single envelope lay on the table.
Inside was a photograph.
Don Pedro standing beside the Armstrong's-time stamped the night before their deaths.
Across the bottom, written in red ink:
WE REMEMBER.
Don Pedro stared at it, breathing hard.
For the first time in decades-
He felt fear.
Kelly received another message as dawn broke.
DON PEDRO: If you betray me, you die.
She stared at the screen, then at the motel door.
Someone knocked.
Her heart stopped.