He told himself he had no reason to think about the boy again.
But the following morning, a message arrived from an unfamiliar address.
It contained a single sentence.
You should be careful about the documents in your safe.
There was no signature.
No explanation.
Wells read it once.
Then again.
His hands grew cold.
Someone knew about the documents.
And for the first time, he could not be certain whether the threat came from outside his mansion or from the secrets already inside it.
Wells forwarded the message to Thomas Reed.
The security director arrived within twenty minutes.
“Where did this come from?”
“An anonymous email.”
“Have you opened any attachments?”
“There weren't any.”
Thomas examined the message headers and checked the account's security logs.
The sender had used a temporary address routed through several servers. There was no obvious indication of the sender's identity.
“Could it be related to the safe?” Thomas asked.
“Obviously.”
“Has anyone else seen the message?”
“No.”
Thomas studied Wells.
“Then we should limit access to the investigation until we understand what it means.”
Wells nodded.
For once, he did not argue.
They reviewed the security footage from the mansion and checked the records of everyone who had entered the property during the previous month.
Nothing unusual appeared.
Thomas also reviewed the safe's contents.
Every document seemed to be present.
Yet the anonymous message continued to trouble Wells.
If it was a bluff, why mention the safe?
If it was genuine, how had the sender learned enough to make the threat?
Wells considered the possibilities.
A business rival might have obtained information through an executive.
An employee might have copied documents.
A specialist might have discussed the safe with someone outside the mansion.
Or Malachi might have remembered something important.
The last possibility seemed absurd.
The boy had no access to the company's internal systems. He had not been present during business meetings. He had merely opened a door.
But Wells could not forget how quickly he had done it.
That afternoon, Wells visited the corporate headquarters.
He summoned his chief financial officer, Daniel Mercer, and asked for an updated report on Northstar Development.
Daniel arrived carrying a tablet.
“The project remains on schedule,” he said. “The property acquisitions are complete, and the first phase of construction is expected to begin next quarter.”
“Any problems with the permits?”
“Nothing significant.”
“Any complaints from the original property owners?”
Daniel hesitated.
“There are two outstanding disputes.”
“What kind?”
“Compensation claims. One family argues that they were pressured into selling. Another claims that an intermediary misrepresented the value of their property.”
Wells's expression hardened.
“Why wasn't I informed?”
“You were included in the previous report.”
Wells searched his memory.
He could not recall reading it.
“Send me the documents.”
Daniel nodded.
As he turned to leave, Wells spoke again.
“Have you discussed Northstar with anyone outside the company?”
“Of course not.”
“Think carefully.”
Daniel frowned.
“No, sir.”
Wells watched him leave.
The answer sounded rehearsed.
He had known Daniel for twelve years. The man was competent, ambitious, and careful with information. He was also deeply invested in the success of Northstar.
Wells wondered whether he had become too dependent on people he could not fully trust.
That evening, Thomas returned to the mansion with a report.
“The anonymous email doesn't appear to have originated from our internal network. However, I found something else.”
He placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed a dark sedan parked across the street from Paige's apartment building.
The vehicle had appeared twice during the previous week.
Wells stared at the photograph.
“Who owns it?”
“We're still checking.”
“Why is it there?”
“We don't know.”
Wells's face tightened.
“Is the family being watched?”
Thomas paused.
“I cannot confirm that.”
Wells rose.
“Find out.”
Thomas remained where he was.
“Mr. Stevenson, I need to ask you something.”
“Not now.”
“Did you instruct anyone to monitor Paige Dylan and her son?”
Wells said nothing.
Thomas understood.
He closed the folder.
“Sir, I am responsible for protecting your property. I am not comfortable participating in surveillance of a child without a legitimate security reason.”
Wells turned sharply.
“You work for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then do your job.”
Thomas held his gaze.
“I am doing it.”
He left the office.
Wells stood beside the desk, feeling the familiar pressure of anger.
Everyone was questioning him.
His lawyer questioned him.
His security director questioned him.
Even his employees questioned him.
He had built a company in which disagreement was tolerated only when it served his objectives.
Now the people around him seemed determined to develop consciences at the worst possible moment.
He returned to the safe.
The anonymous message remained open on his computer.
You should be careful about the documents in your safe.
Wells opened the vault and removed the Northstar folder.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
He stopped at an email dated eight months earlier.
The message had been sent by Daniel Mercer to an outside consultant.
It discussed the acquisition of a residential property owned by a retired teacher named Samuel Price.
The consultant had recommended delaying a public valuation until after the family agreed to sell.
Wells frowned.
He remembered approving the acquisition.
He did not remember authorizing that tactic.
He continued reading.
A second email referred to a payment made through an intermediary.
A third mentioned a planning official who had accelerated the permit process.
The messages did not prove wrongdoing by themselves.
But together, they suggested that someone had gone beyond the aggressive negotiation strategy Wells believed he had approved.
He sat down slowly.
For years, he had assumed that the people working for him shared his priorities.
Profit.
Control.
Efficiency.
He had not asked too many questions about the methods they used.
Now he was beginning to wonder whether his own indifference had created a danger he could no longer contain.
The safe stood open beside him.
For the first time, Wells did not see it as a fortress.