VICTOR LANGTON
Victor Langton sat in his office watching the news.
"—body of Cora Harlow discovered this morning. Police confirm this is the Ghost's seventh victim in twelve years—"
He muted the television. Leaned back in his leather chair. Smiled.
Perfect.
The desk phone rang. His assistant.
"Sir, Mr. Chen is on line two."
"Tell him I'll call back."
"He says it's urgent. About the Crane situation."
Victor's smile widened. "Put him through."
Click. Marcus Chen's nervous voice came through the speaker. "Victor. Have you seen the news?"
"I'm watching it now."
"Cora Harlow is dead. The Ghost killed her. The police are investigating. This is—this is getting out of hand."
"On the contrary. This is perfect."
"Perfect? Victor, if they connect us to Cora—"
"They won't. Cora was sloppy. Emotional. She left trails." Victor opened a drawer. Pulled out a file labeled HARLOW. "We, on the other hand, are ghosts ourselves."
"But Mia Harlow—"
"Is about to become very useful." Victor opened the file. Photos of Mia spilled across his desk. At work. At coffee shops. Walking alone. "Tell me, Marcus. What do you see when you look at her?"
Silence on the other end.
"I see a woman who's been playing the devoted wife for five years," Victor continued. "Smiling at cameras. Attending galas. Pretending she doesn't hate every second of it." He picked up a photo. Mia at her wedding. Eyes downcast. No smile. "She never wanted this marriage. Never wanted Elias Crane. She just wanted to save her family."
"So?"
"So she's not loyal. She's trapped." Victor set down the photo. "And trapped animals are the easiest to catch. You just have to offer them the right bait."
"What bait?"
"Freedom. Justice. Revenge." He pulled out another photo. Mia's father. "Harrison Harlow. Good man. Built a solid company. Loved his daughter. Then we destroyed him. Systematically. Deliberately. Left him with nothing but debt and shame."
"That was business—"
"That was necessary. Harrison Harlow wouldn't sell. Wouldn't negotiate. So we removed him from the board. Literally." Victor's voice was calm. Pleasant. Like he was discussing the weather. "His daughter never knew who did it. She thinks her father failed. That he wasn't strong enough. Smart enough."
"You want to tell her the truth?"
"Eventually. When she's desperate enough to listen. Angry enough to act." Victor pulled up security footage on his computer. Mia's apartment building. "First, we need to make her vulnerable. Isolated. Afraid."
"How?"
"We already started. Marco's been following her friend. The fashion editor. Jade Park." Victor zoomed in on footage from tonight. Jade at her window. Looking scared. "Women like Mia—they don't break when you threaten them. They break when you threaten the people they love."
"You're going after the friend?"
"I'm going to make Mia think I'm going after the friend. There's a difference." Victor closed the file. "Marco will establish presence. Make himself known. Frighten Jade enough that she calls Mia. And Mia—" He smiled. "Mia will run to Elias for protection."
"Which accomplishes what?"
"It forces Elias to reveal himself. To act. To prove he cares about his contract wife more than he should." Victor stood. Walked to his window. The city spread below him. His city. "The Ghost has stayed invisible for twelve years because he has no weaknesses. No attachments. No one he cares about enough to break cover for."
"Until Mia."
"Until Mia." Victor's reflection smiled back at him. "She's the lock, Marcus. The only thing keeping Elias Crane's armor sealed tight. All we have to do is find the right key to open her."
"And then?"
"And then we take everything. His empire. His reputation. His freedom." Victor turned from the window. "And his wife. We take her last. Let him watch. Let him know that all his careful planning, all his lies, all his protection—it wasn't enough."
Marcus was quiet. Then: "He'll retaliate."
"Let him. Retaliation requires visibility. The moment the Ghost shows his face, we have him." Victor sat back down. Opened his computer. Pulled up files. "I want everything on Mia Harlow. Every job she's ever had. Every friend she's ever made. Every place she goes. Every routine she follows."
"Victor—"
"Do it. Now. I want a complete profile by morning."
"That's six hours."
"Then you'd better start working." Victor ended the call.
He pulled up more footage. Mia at the Crane estate. Mia at charity galas. Mia smiling for cameras while sitting beside her wheelchair-bound husband.
Always smiling. Always performing. Always pretending.
But in a few photos—just a few—the mask slipped.
There. At last year's Christmas gala. Elias said something. Mia laughed. Real laughter. Unguarded. Her hand moved toward his shoulder. Stopped halfway. Pulled back.
Like she'd forgotten for a moment that touching him wasn't part of the contract.
Victor zoomed in.
Elias's expression in that photo was different too. Not the medicated glaze. Something else. Something that looked almost like—
No.
Victor sat back. Studied the image.
The Ghost doesn't feel. Doesn't care. Doesn't love.
But the man in that photo wasn't looking at Mia like she was a contract.
He was looking at her like she was his.
Victor's phone buzzed. Text from Marco: Subject located. Maple Street. Near the park. Alone.
Victor smiled.
He typed back: Don't take her yet. Just scare her. I want her running to him. Let's see what the Ghost does when his wife is threatened.
He opened another window. Security feeds from around the city. Found the one for Maple Street.
There. Mia's car. Pulled over on an empty street.
And walking toward her—Marco in his gray coat.
Victor leaned forward. Watched.
This was it. The moment everything changed.
Either Elias would ignore the threat—prove Mia meant nothing—and Victor would take her anyway.
Or Elias would react—break cover to save her—and prove Victor had finally found his weakness.
Either way, Victor won.
On screen, Marco approached Mia's car. Showed her his phone. Mia's face went white.
Victor's smile widened.
"Run to him," he whispered to the screen. "Run to your husband. Show me he cares. Show me the Ghost has a heart."
His desk phone rang again.
"Sir, you have another call. Detective Morrison. He says it's about the Harlow investigation."
Victor's hand paused over the phone. Morrison. The cop investigating Cora's death. The one asking questions about Mia.
Perfect timing.
"Put him through."
Click.
"Mr. Langton." Morrison's voice was professional. Cold. "Thank you for taking my call."
"Of course, Detective. How can I help?"
"I'm investigating Cora Harlow's murder. I understand you had business dealings with her?"
"Briefly. She provided consulting services for one of my smaller ventures. Why?"
"What kind of consulting?"
"Market research. Consumer trends. Nothing substantial." Victor kept his voice bored. Disinterested. "I heard about her death on the news. Terrible tragedy."
"Did she ever mention her stepsister? Mia Crane?"
Victor's fingers drummed on his desk. "Once or twice. Why?"
"We're trying to establish Mia's whereabouts last night. Build a timeline. You wouldn't happen to know—"
"I'm afraid not. I barely knew Cora. Didn't know her family at all." Victor paused. "Although I did read about Mrs. Crane's marriage. To Elias Crane. The man in the wheelchair. Quite the love story."
"Some would say that."
"And others?" Victor's voice dropped. "Others might call it suspicious. Young woman marries dying man. Stands to inherit everything. Then his enemies start dying."
Silence on the other end.
"Are you suggesting something, Mr. Langton?"
"Not at all, Detective. Just making an observation." Victor smiled at his reflection in the dark window. "Although if I were investigating this case, I might ask myself: who benefits from the Ghost's activities? Who gains from these deaths?"
"And your answer would be?"
"The woman sitting in the wheelchair's shadow. Safe. Protected. Invisible." He paused. "Until now."
Morrison was quiet for a long moment. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Langton. If you think of anything else—"
"I'll call immediately."
The line went dead.
Victor set down the phone.
Looked back at his computer screen.
Maple Street. Mia's car. Marco walking away now. Mission accomplished.
And in the distance—headlights approaching. Fast. Too fast.
A black car. Elias's car.
Racing toward Mia.
Breaking every traffic law to reach her.
Victor leaned back in his chair.
Smiled.
"There you are," he whispered. "There's the Ghost. Breaking cover. Showing your hand. Proving she matters."
He picked up his phone. Sent one text.
She's the lock. We just found the key.