Chapter 108 Old Ghosts, new threats
Timothy
He doesn’t wait for my response. He simply turns and walks out of the dining room, already expecting me to follow.
I stay where I am for half a second longer.
Then I sigh under my breath.
And follow.
My footsteps echo faintly against the polished floors as I trail behind him down the hallway. The house feels quieter now, the earlier tension still lingering in the air like something unsettled.
We reach his office.
He pushes the door open and walks in without a pause.
I step in after him.
The door closes behind me with a soft click.
He’s already moving toward his desk, shaking his head as he mutters under his breath.
“Unbelievable,” he says. “A simple dinner. That’s all it was meant to be.”
I don’t respond.
He exhales sharply, dropping into his chair.
“Catfights and nonsense,” he continues, rubbing his temple. “Is it too much to ask for one evening of peace and quiet?”
I lean back slightly against one of the chairs across from him, arms crossing loosely as I wait.
Because clearly, he didn’t drag me in here just to complain.
Eventually, he stops muttering and looks up at me.
His expression shifts.
From irritation to something more focused.
More serious.
“Sit,” he says.
I pull out the chair across from him and do as told.
Without another word, he opens a drawer and pulls out a file.
Thick.
He slides it across the desk toward me.
“Look at this.”
I pick it up, flipping it open.
At first glance, it looks like any other business report.
But as I skim through…
My brows draw together.
This isn’t routine.
“These are recent,” I say, scanning the dates.
“Yes.”
I flip another page.
Financial movements.
Acquisitions.
Aggressive expansions.
Fast.
Too fast.
“These companies…” I trail off slightly, narrowing my eyes. “They weren’t on the radar before.”
“No,” my father confirms. “They weren’t.”
I keep reading.
“Their decisions don’t make sense,” I murmur. “This level of risk, no established firm would move like this without…”
“Without a plan,” he finishes.
I glance up at him.
“And yet,” he adds, leaning back in his chair, “they stand by every move.”
That catches my attention.
I look back down at the file.
There it is.
A major decision made just days ago.
Bold.
Borderline reckless.
The kind that should have triggered backlash.
Losses.
Uncertainty.
But instead, they doubled down.
Held their ground.
Like they knew something no one else did.
My frown deepens.
“This isn’t normal,” I say.
“No, it isn’t.”
I flip to the next section.
More data.
More inconsistencies.
And then, the last few pages.
Profiles.
Or rather, a lack of them.
I pause.
“This is everything we have on them?” I ask.
My father nods.
“Everything.”
I stare at the page.
A name.
A clean record.
Too clean.
No history of significance.
No notable affiliations.
No controversies.
Nothing.
It’s like they appeared out of nowhere.
And that, that’s what makes it dangerous.
I close the file slowly, tapping it lightly against the desk as I think.
“This is connected,” I say finally.
My father watches me.
“How?”
I meet his gaze.
“The timing.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Explain.”
I lean forward slightly.
“These people show up out of nowhere. Start making aggressive moves. Risk-heavy decisions. And at the same time…”
I stop myself.
Rowan.
The thought hits me again.
The timing.
The questions he’s been asking.
The interest he’s suddenly taken.
It lines up too neatly.
Too neatly to ignore.
My father studies me.
“At the same time?” he prompts.
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
Do I tell him?
Do I mention Rowan?
My jaw tightens slightly.
No.
Not yet.
Not without more proof.
“It’s too coordinated,” I say instead, choosing my words carefully. “It doesn’t feel random.”
He nods slowly.
“That’s what concerns me.”
I tap the file lightly.
“And you said this relates to the old case?”
His expression hardens slightly.
“Yes.”
That word alone carries weight.
Years ago.
Buried.
Handled.
Or so we thought.
“Information came in recently,” he continues. “Not confirmed, but credible enough to take seriously.”
I sit back slightly.
“And these people?”
“Possible ties,” he says. “Nothing concrete yet. But the pattern is familiar.”
I exhale slowly.
So it’s not just business.
It’s something deeper.
Something older.
Which makes it worse.
“I don’t like this,” I admit.
“Neither do I.”
Silence settles between us for a moment.
Heavy.
Calculated.
I flip the file open again, scanning the last page one more time.
The name stares back at me.
Clean.
Untouchable.
A ghost.
“How does someone operate at this level without a trail?” I mutter.
“They don’t,” my father says. “Which means the trail is being hidden.”
Deliberately.
Carefully.
I close the file again.
“I’ll look into it,” I say.
He nods.
“I’ll send you a full copy. Along with whatever resources you need.”
“Good.”
“You’ll handle it personally.”
It’s not a question.
I meet his gaze.
“Yes.”
Because this, this isn’t something I trust to anyone else.
My mind is already working through possibilities.
Connections.
Timelines.
And underneath it all….
That same thought keeps resurfacing. Rowan.
I push it aside again.
Not yet.
I need more than suspicion.
“I want answers,” my father says firmly.
“You’ll have them.”
He studies me for a moment longer, then nods once.
“Good.”
The conversation ends there.
But the weight of it doesn’t.
As I stand, file in hand, one thing is clear.
Something is moving beneath the surface.
Something that was buried is resurfacing.
And whatever it is…
It’s going to shake things up badly.