Chapter 3 Into the fire

Naomi sat across from Delaney Rhodes in a quiet café tucked between two brownstones in Brooklyn. The PI looked less guarded than before, but only marginally. Her eyes scanned the street through the window, as if expecting someone to burst through the door at any moment.

Naomi slid the manila envelope across the table.

"This is everything Sophia collected. The contracts, emails, money trails. It's all there."

Delaney flipped through the papers, letting out a low whistle.

"Damn," she muttered. "She really did her homework."

"She said she didn't trust the police," Naomi said quietly. "Do you?"

Delaney paused, then set the folder down.

"I know a few good people. But not the kind that deal with billionaires. If we walk this into a precinct, someone will tip Julian off before we even finish our statements."

Naomi nodded grimly. "So what do we do?"

"We go around them," Delaney replied. "The press. A reputable journalist who won't sell this to the highest bidder. Someone who can go public fast before anyone can shut us down."

Naomi hesitated. "That puts a target on both our backs."

"It already is."

Naomi leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. "Someone sent me a video. Of me. Last night. They're watching me, Delaney. I can't even stay in my own apartment."

Delaney's eyes darkened. "You'll stay with me. I've got secure locks, cameras, firewalls, backup power, the works. We'll keep things quiet until we're ready to go public."

Naomi let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

Delaney checked her watch. "I'll call someone I trust. An investigative reporter named Eden Morrow. She's exposed congressmen and Wall Street tycoons. If anyone can handle this story, it's her."

"Can we trust her?"

"We won't hand over the originals until we're sure."

Naomi nodded. It was the best plan they had.

But deep inside, a storm of fear still raged.

---

That night, Naomi moved into Delaney's apartment-a third-story unit above an old antique bookstore. It wasn't flashy, but it was secure. Reinforced doors, blackout curtains, multiple locks.

She stood at the window, peeking through the blinds as a black SUV cruised by slowly.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

"Tick tock, Naomi."

She turned the screen off and walked to the kitchen, where Delaney was on the phone.

"She'll meet us tomorrow. Private location, no cameras. She's interested."

Delaney hung up and poured two glasses of bourbon.

"Eden's agreed to meet. She wants to see the files and hear your side of the story."

Naomi accepted the glass. "And if she backs out?"

"We go to the next one. And the next. Someone will bite."

Naomi took a sip. "I don't care about the headlines. I just want to know what happened to Sophia."

Delaney looked at her with a mix of sympathy and admiration.

"You want justice. That's rare."

Naomi swallowed hard. "It's the least I can do."

---

The next day, they met Eden Morrow in a private suite at a boutique hotel in Tribeca.

Eden was in her late thirties, wearing a sharp navy suit and no-nonsense heels. Her eyes were calculating but not cruel, and she greeted Naomi with a firm handshake.

"I've read Delaney's summary," Eden said, spreading the documents on the table. "What I want now is your story, Naomi. In your own words."

Naomi hesitated, then began.

She told her everything-how she met Julian, how he charmed her, how he confided in her about his "cold and distant" wife. How he made her feel seen, chosen. How he always promised to leave Sophia, but never did.

And then, how things changed.

The lies. The cold silences. The controlling behavior. The night Sophia disappeared. The flash drive. The threats. When she finished, Eden sat back, stunned.

"You realize this is career suicide if it's not airtight."

"I know," Naomi said. "But I'm done living in fear."

Eden tapped the flash drive thoughtfully. "This could ruin Thorne Media. It could ripple across the financial sector, even the political landscape."

Naomi nodded. "I hope it does."

Eden looked between her and Delaney.

"I'll need twenty-four hours to verify the documents. Once I publish, it will go global. There's no turning back."

Naomi leaned forward. "Then don't waste a second."

---

Back at Delaney's apartment, Naomi tried to sleep. But the walls felt like they were closing in.

At 2:43 AM, she woke up with a start.

A clicking sound. She sat up, heart pounding. Click. Pause. Click. She crept to the living room.

Delaney was on the couch, gun in hand, watching the security feed on her laptop.

"Someone's at the side alley," she said without looking up.

Naomi's mouth went dry. "Do you think it's Julian?"

"I think it's someone he hired. But don't worry." Delaney cocked the gun. "I'm not easy to take down."

A moment later, the screen went dark.

"All the feeds just went out."

Naomi gasped.

"Pack a bag," Delaney said. "We're moving."

---

Within ten minutes, they were in Delaney's Jeep, driving toward a safehouse in New Jersey. Naomi sat in the passenger seat, clutching her bag and trying not to cry.

"They cut the power," she said. "They knew we were there."

Delaney gritted her teeth. "They know everything. Julian has connections in law enforcement, in cybersecurity, maybe even in the press."

"But Eden-"

"She's smart. She'll keep herself safe. She's probably already in a bunker of her own."

Naomi turned to the window, watching the city blur behind them.

"How do people like him sleep at night?"

"They don't," Delaney said. "They drink. They lie. They tell themselves the world owes them. And if they destroy someone to stay on top, they call it strategy."

Naomi exhaled slowly.

"I want to destroy him back."

Delaney glanced at her.

"You will."

---

By morning, they were settled in a remote cottage in Pine Barrens. No neighbors for miles. Delaney checked every lock, tested the generator, and set up a mobile signal booster.

At noon, Naomi received a message from Eden.

Eden Morrow: Files verified. Story goes live at 8AM tomorrow. Brace yourself.

Naomi stared at the text. It was real now. In less than twenty-four hours, the truth would be out. The world would finally know who Julian Thorne really was. But before she could respond, another message buzzed in. This time from Julian himself.

Julian Thorne: I warned you, Naomi. You never should've crossed me. You've made yourself the enemy. And enemies don't get second chances.

Naomi's hands shook as she showed the screen to Delaney.

"She's publishing anyway," Naomi said. "We're past second chances."

Delaney smirked.

"Then let's make sure he doesn't get a third."

Naomi stared at Julian's message, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Enemies don't get second chances. The words etched themselves into her brain like a threat carved into stone.

She slid the phone across the table toward Delaney, who was cleaning her Glock on the kitchen counter like she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

"He knows you're helping me now," Naomi said, her voice low. "He'll come after you too."

Delaney didn't even blink. "I've pissed off worse men than Julian Thorne. He's just got better suits and a bigger stage."

Naomi wrapped her arms around herself. "He's not going to let this story come out without a fight."

"No," Delaney agreed, "he's going to try to bury it-and us-before it drops. That gives us less than twenty hours to stay one step ahead."

Naomi's fingers itched with the urge to call Eden, to ask if she was safe. But she knew Eden wouldn't answer. She had gone dark for a reason.

"I need to do something," Naomi said suddenly, standing up. "I can't just sit here waiting for him to strike again."

Delaney looked at her for a moment, then stood too.

"Then let's take a preemptive swing."

The safehouse had a burner laptop-Delaney's backup to the backup. Naomi sat with it in her lap while Delaney connected through three VPNs and an encrypted tunnel to a secure server.

"This laptop's clean. No signal tracking, no spyware. You'll be safe here."

Naomi opened one of the flash drive copies Eden had instructed her to keep.

She skimmed over dozens of financial records-but this time, she wasn't just reading.

She was hunting.

Julian had power, money, and lawyers. But even he had weaknesses. She just needed to find one. A trail of offshore accounts. Suspicious payments. Untraceable donations.

Naomi froze when she saw one name repeated again and again.

Westhaven Institute.

A small charity on paper, supposedly a rehab center for troubled teens. But according to the wire transfers, Julian funneled over five million dollars into it over the last two years.

"Delaney," Naomi said, her voice tight. "What do you know about Westhaven Institute?"

Delaney typed a few commands, pulling up public records.

"It's registered as a non-profit. But no website. No press coverage. That's odd."

"Check the board of directors."

Delaney's eyes narrowed as the list loaded.

And there it was.

Miles Craven - Julian's longtime legal advisor.

Gregory Baines - former senator, currently lobbying for Thorne Media. And at the very top...

Sophia Thorne.

Naomi's blood ran cold.

"She was on the board."

Delaney looked up. "If Julian was using Westhaven to launder money, and Sophia found out..."

"She tried to stop it," Naomi whispered. "And that's when she disappeared."

Delaney tapped her pen on the table.

"We need eyes on that facility. If it even exists."

Naomi leaned back. "Let's go."

Delaney raised an eyebrow. "You want to drive three hours to some shady rehab center in the middle of Jersey pinewoods tonight?"

Naomi looked her dead in the eyes.

"Yes."

They reached the outskirts of the listed Westhaven address just past midnight. The facility was surrounded by tall fencing and thick woods. There were no signs, no lights, no people. Just a large, windowless building that looked more like a military warehouse than a wellness center.

Delaney parked a quarter-mile away, and they approached on foot.

"Security cameras," she muttered, pointing up.

Naomi ducked instinctively. "Can you jam them?"

Delaney pulled a small device from her coat pocket. "Already on it."

They scaled the fence with practiced ease-well, Delaney did. Naomi's heart pounded in her throat the entire climb.

Inside, the air was eerily still. No guards. No lights. Just the echo of their footsteps on concrete.

"Something's off," Delaney whispered. "Places like this usually have some sign of life."

They reached the main door, locked tight with a biometric scanner.

Delaney knelt and pulled a tool from her bag, dismantling the panel with swift precision. After a few tense seconds, the lock clicked. They slipped inside. The interior was worse than Naomi imagined. Not sterile. Not clinical. Just... empty. No furniture. No supplies. No evidence that anyone had lived or worked there in years.

Delaney checked a clipboard hanging on the wall. "Last signed activity was six months ago. And even that looks faked."

Naomi opened a drawer at the front desk. Nothing. But just as she was about to give up, Delaney called from a hallway to the right.

"Naomi. You need to see this."

She hurried over.

And stopped cold.

The room was filled with files-stacks upon stacks, labeled by year, client ID, and intake number. But there were no medical records. No counseling notes.

Just ledgers. Payments in and out. Donations. Withdrawals.

Names. Many she didn't recognize. But one name stood out.

Naomi Blake - listed not as a donor, but as a recipient. With an intake ID. Dated two years before she ever met Julian.

"What the hell?" she whispered.

Delaney was silent for a long moment.

"He created a file for you. Fabricated it. To make it look like you were part of this. Probably to discredit you if things ever went public."

Naomi felt sick.

"So he was planning this the whole time? Even before we met?"

Delaney nodded grimly. "It wasn't about love. It was about control."

Naomi scanned the shelf. Then she saw another file. Sophia Thorne - tagged with a red mark. She pulled it down, hands trembling. Inside were surveillance photos. Sophia at home. Sophia meeting a woman in a coffee shop. Sophia on a rooftop. The last photo...

Sophia standing near the railing, looking over her shoulder. Naomi turned the picture over. A time stamp. The night she disappeared.

"Oh my God," Naomi whispered. "He had her followed. Watched. He knew everything."

Delaney stepped closer. "He didn't just silence her. He erased her."

Naomi stood still, letting it all sink in. Then she took a breath.

"We're leaking this tonight. Not in the morning. Not on Eden's timeline. Now."

Delaney nodded slowly. "I'll call Eden. But once this drops, there's no going back."

Naomi picked up Sophia's file, her hand steady now.

"I don't want to go back."

By 4:17 AM, Eden received the final files via encrypted drop. She confirmed receipt with a single word:

"Understood."

At 6:00 AM, the story broke.

BILLIONAIRE MEDIA TYCOON LINKED TO MISSING WIFE, FRAUD, AND SECRET BLACK SITE

By 6:02, #JulianThorne trended across platforms.

By 6:08, Thorne Media's stock began to nosedive.

At 6:13, Julian called her.

Naomi answered. There was silence for a moment, then his cold, dangerous voice.

"You think this is over?"

"No," Naomi replied. "This is just the beginning."