Chapter 12: The Raid On The House
We slipped out the back and watched through the kitchen window as three men kicked down Marta’s front door. They tore through every room—ripping drawers open, smashing pictures, turning furniture upside down.
When they left empty-handed, Lucas’s face was set like stone. “They’re not stopping. Not until they have every last piece of paper, every witness, and us.”
That night, we stayed at a safe house arranged by the FBI—hidden, guarded, no way in or out without clearance. Agents sat with us as we laid out every detail, every name, every date.
By morning, the picture was complete: this wasn’t just a debt. It was a massive money-laundering ring that had been using Lucas’s family company as a front for nearly two decades. His father had been part of it. David had taken over. And Lucas had never known.
“They planned to kill you the day of the accident,” the lead agent said. “Swap you out, bury the loose end, and take over everything legally.”
Lucas looked at Jude. “They would have killed you too, if they found out you existed.”
“I know,” Jude said. “But I’d rather die than let them hurt your family.”
Then the agent’s phone rang. He answered, then looked up at us grimly.
“They found the man in your coffin. And they’re charging you with faking his death.”
