MasukThe FBI field office was chaos. Analysts working overnight. Documents spread across every surface. Coffee cups everywhere. Exhaustion and adrenaline mixing.Rodriguez had called an emergency meeting. 4 AM. Everyone who mattered. Me, Marcus, Robert, Schaffer. The core team."We found something," she said. Circles under her eyes. Three days without sleep. "In Edward Ashford's business records. Buried in partnership agreements from 1971."She projected an image on the screen. Legal document. Yellowed. Old."Ashford Industries partnership agreement. Dated November 1971. Three months before The Covenant's founding charter."I read the names. Edward Ashford. And someone else.**J. Morrison**"Who's J. Morrison?" Marcus asked."That's what we've been trying to figure out. Edward's letters referenced The Architect but never gave a name. This partnership agreement is the link. Morrison and Edward started a business together. Then three months later, The Covenant was founded."Schaffer leaned f
The Ashford estate sat abandoned on fifty acres near Albany. Stone manor. Three stories. Windows dark. Ivy crawling up walls. Forty years of neglect.FBI had assembled a team. Rodriguez led. Forensic specialists. Document experts. Photographers. Everyone wore gloves and booties. Treating this like a crime scene.Which it was.Marcus helped me out of the car. Seven months pregnant. Every step harder. Every breath shallower."You sure you want to do this?" he asked. "You could wait in the car.""It's my family's house. My grandfather's office. I need to see."Rodriguez approached. "We're ready. Key?"I handed over the brass key. Tagged. Forty years old.We entered through the front door. Musty smell. Dust thick on everything. Furniture covered in sheets like ghosts.Rodriguez led us upstairs. Second floor. Then third. East wing.The hallway narrowed. Dark. One door at the end. Heavy oak. Brass lock plate."This is it," I said.Rodriguez inserted the key. Turned. The lock clicked. Smooth
The prison visitation room smelled like disinfectant and despair. Metal table bolted to the floor. Plastic chairs. Guards watching from corners.Victor sat across from me. Looking older than his fifty-eight years. Grey hair. Thin. Prison had hollowed him out.Marcus sat beside me. Silent support. Hand on my knee. Grounding.The wire under my dress felt heavy. FBI listening. Recording everything."Aria," Victor said quietly. "I was surprised you wanted to see me.""I have something to tell you. About our family.""Sienna? Is she okay? The baby?""They're fine. This is about your father. My grandfather. Edward Ashford."Victor's face changed. Guarded."What about him?"I pulled out a copy of the document. The founding charter. Slid it across the table."FBI found this in Martin Schaffer's evidence. It's The Covenant's original charter. From 1972."Victor picked it up. Read. Face going pale as he reached the signatures."No.""Your father. Edward Ashford. He was one of twelve founders. H
Rodriguez called three days later. "We need you at the field office. Now."Her voice was tight. Urgent. Not good news.Marcus drove me. My belly pressed against the seatbelt. Seven months pregnant now. Getting harder to move. To breathe. To do anything.But when FBI called, you went.The conference room was covered in documents. Thousands of pages spread across tables. Walls lined with timeline boards. Photos. Names. Connections mapped in red string like a conspiracy theorist's nightmare.Except this was real.Rodriguez looked exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes. Coffee cup shaking slightly in her hand."We've been going through Schaffer's evidence for seventy-two hours straight. Brought in analysts. Forensic accountants. Everyone."She gestured to the documents. "This is bigger than we thought."Robert sat in the corner. Looking small. Scared. He'd been here too. Helping verify names. Confirm details.Schaffer stood near the window. Calm. Composed. Like he'd been waiting for this
Martin Schaffer's law office was exactly what you'd expect from a man who'd defended Julian Cross and gotten rich doing it. Top floor of a Midtown high-rise. Mahogany furniture. Original art. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park.I sat in his waiting room wearing a wire under my maternity dress, my daughter kicking nervously inside me. Or maybe that was my nervousness.Either way, when Schaffer's secretary said "He'll see you now," I took a breath and walked into the lion's den.Schaffer stood when I entered. Still imposing at seventy-two. Sharp-eyed. Perfectly dressed in a charcoal suit."Ms. Winters. Or should I say Mrs. Rhodes now? Congratulations on your marriage. And the baby.""Thank you for seeing me.""I was surprised by your call. Our last interaction was adversarial.""You were doing your job."He gestured to a chair. "Please, sit. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?""Water would be nice."He poured from a crystal decanter. Expensive. Everything in this office
The FBI conference room was stark. White walls. Metal table. Recording equipment blinking red.Robert sat across from Agent Rodriguez and two other agents I didn't recognize. I was there as witness and victim. Marcus as my support. Rachel Cohen representing Robert legally. Pro bono, because even cowards deserve lawyers.Rodriguez slid a non-disclosure agreement across the table. "Everything said in this room is classified until we say otherwise. Understood?"Robert signed. Then began to talk."Start from the beginning. When did you first encounter The Covenant?""1999. I was working for Ashford Industries. Chief Financial Officer. I noticed irregularities. Money disappearing. Offshore transfers. I reported it to Victor Ashford.""What did Victor say?""He said he'd handle it. Instead, he introduced me to Julian Cross. Said Cross was a consultant who could help streamline operations. That was my first Covenant meeting."Robert described it. Private club. Wealthy men. Exclusive. Surface







