The notification on Duncan Brown's phone buzzed during a tense dinner. He sat at the head of the mahogany table, while his wife, Valerie, and her daughter, Catherine, picked at their salads. The house felt heavy with the same old gloom—the guilt Duncan carried for how he had treated Fiona before she "died" in that accident three years ago.
He glanced at the screen. It was an encrypted message from an unknown number. He opened the attachment, and his heart nearly stopped. It was a photo of a woman in a bed. She was thin and pale, but those were Fiona's eyes.
The text below it read: The daughter you buried isn't Fiona, she is alive in California. If you want her back, bring your passport and go to the helipad at Pier 7. Tell no one if you want her to stay safe.
"Duncan? Is everything alright?" Valerie asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
