Chapter 14 - The Unmarked Courier
Late that afternoon, after the office had quieted down and the administrative staff had departed for the evening, a sharp knock echoed against the front door.
I was alone in the foyer, organizing a stack of architectural blueprints for the upcoming community center wing. I pulled open the heavy oak door. There was no courier van idling in the driveway, no delivery person walking down the stone steps.
Instead, a thick, unaddressed manila envelope rested squarely on the welcome mat, held down by a smooth, polished river stone.
My pulse spiked for a brief, familiar second—a lingering reflex of the fear I had fought so hard to overcome. But I didn't hesitate. I picked up the stone, lifted the envelope, and locked the door behind me before carrying it into the study.
Nathan walked in a moment later, sensing the sudden shift in the room's energy. “What’s that?”
“Another delivery,” I said, sliding my letter opener beneath the flap.
May you like
Inside was not a legal threat, nor was it a corporate ledger. It was a single, vintage 35mm photograph and a handwritten index card.
The photograph showed my father and an unidentified, middle-aged man standing outside a Swiss banking syndicate twenty-five years ago, smiling warmly at the camera. On the back of the card, written in an elegant, sloping cursive, were six words: The second foundation is still watching.
