Chapter 4 - The 113 Missed Calls
When I pushed through the heavy side exit doors into the cool night air, my personal vehicle—driven by Marcus Vance’s trusted private investigator—was already idling by the curb with its doors unlocked.
As I slid smoothly into the plush leather back seat, my smartphone instantly lit up like a Christmas tree, vibrating continuously against my palm. Notifications, text alerts, missed call logs, and social media ping alerts began stacking up at a terrifying velocity. Coworkers, distant nursing school acquaintances, hospital administrators, local medical journalists, and high school friends I hadn't spoken to in a decade were blowing up my phone.
A high-definition smartphone clip of my acceptance speech had already broken containment from the ballroom, escaped onto local social media feeds, and was actively going viral across multiple digital platforms with millions of views pouring in by the minute.
My lawyer, Marcus, texted me a single, brilliant emoji: a thumbs-up coupled with an incoming PDF of the court-stamped asset freeze order.
Sarah texted: “The forensic audit reports have just been securely transmitted to the circuit court clerk's office. Happy restructuring, Diane.”
I muted all notifications, slid the phone into my designer evening clutch, and stared quietly out the tinted window as the city lights blurred past us in a cascade of neon streaks. I felt an overwhelming, indescribable lightness settling deep into my chest—the profound physiological sensation of a massive, infected abscess finally being completely drained of its toxic burden.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away across the international date line, Richard Mercer’s first-class commercial flight was descending through the warm dusk toward the sun-drenched tarmac of Cabo San Lucas international airport.
The heavy Boeing jet touched down with a smooth whine of reverse thrusters, bumping gently along the runway before taxiing toward the private executive terminal gate.
Passengers began unbuckling their seatbelts, grabbing overhead roller bags, and eagerly pulling their smartphones out of airplane mode to check their digital lives.
Richard reached into the tailored pocket of his designer travel jacket, flipped his high-end smartphone out of airplane mode, and settled back into his seat with a self-satisfied smirk, fully anticipating a quiet, luxurious weekend of tropical cocktails, ocean breezes, and uninterrupted corporate infidelity.
Instead, his phone immediately locked up entirely.
The screen flashed violently, struggling to process a colossal digital tidal wave of incoming notifications, emergency alerts, panicked WhatsApp groups, frantic voicemails, and explosive media clips.
Richard stared down at the glowing screen in sheer, unadulterated horror as the digital counter rapidly ticked upward, refreshing second by second.
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Within three minutes of touching Mexican soil, his lock screen flashed a horrifying, impossible number: 113 missed calls.
And the lavish tropical weekend vacation he had smuggedly assumed was an airtight, untraceable secret hadn't even officially begun.
