Morning sunlight poured through the gauzy curtains of her parents' kitchen, casting soft, golden streaks across the table. Emma sat in silence, staring into a lukewarm cup of coffee, her mind still tangled in the events of the night before.
Every word of the phone call echoed through her—someone has to pay.
The fear hadn't left. It had simply put on a quieter face.
Her father, Robert, entered the kitchen already dressed in jeans and a worn NYPD jacket from his precinct days. His steps were firm. His expression serious.
"I don't like you handling this alone," he said, pulling out the chair beside her.
Emma raised her tired eyes to him. "Dad, I can't go to the police. Not officially. They already arrested me once. Half the department still thinks I had something to do with Daniel's death."
Robert nodded. "I know. That's why I made a call."
Emma blinked. "A call?"
"There's someone I trust. Junior officer from my old precinct. Smart kid. Knows how to keep things quiet."
She arched a brow. "You called in a favor?"
"I pulled in someone discreet. He'll look into Daniel's debts, dig into connections we can't officially touch."
Emma sipped her coffee, uncertain. "What's his name?"
Robert smiled faintly. "Detective Ryan Carter."
Emma gave him a look. "Carter?"
"No relation," he added with a smirk. "But he's good. Real good. I told him to meet you at your office."
Emma stood and grabbed her bag. "Alright. Let's see if he lives up to the name."
Before she turned to leave, she paused. "Thanks, Dad."
His smile was brief, but warm. "Be careful."
The sun was already high when Emma pulled into the parking lot outside her law office.
She noticed him immediately—young, mid-thirties, leaning against a black unmarked car, arms crossed casually, dressed in a leather jacket and slacks. Clean-cut, confident. And watching her.
As she stepped out of her vehicle, their eyes met.
"You must be Emma Carter," he said with a faint grin.
"You must be Ryan Carter," she replied, folding her arms.
"Guess we've got something in common already," he quipped.
She gestured toward the building. "Let's talk inside."
They stepped into the quiet office together.
Emma didn't know it yet, but this man—Detective Ryan Carter—was about to change everything.
Inside the conference room, the table was cluttered with folders, printouts, highlighters, and half-empty coffee mugs. Emma sat at one end, her longtime friend and colleague Sophia James at the other. Ryan joined them, dropping a file onto the table with a determined thud.
"I've started digging through Daniel's financials," Sophia said, flipping through a report. "He wasn't just in debt. He was buried."
Ryan nodded. "Messy finances usually mean someone's hiding something."
Emma leaned forward, her voice low and focused. "Then let's find out what."
Ryan opened his own folder. "I've started running background checks on all the lenders Daniel used. Most were clean, but one stood out—a private loan, two months before he died."
He slid a grainy surveillance photo across the table.
It showed Daniel—or someone who looked like him—entering a dimly lit office, meeting with a man whose features were blurred but unmistakably menacing.
"His name is Victor Salazar," Ryan said grimly. "Loan shark. Connected to extortion, fraud, and several disappearances. He's dangerous."
Emma stared at the photo. "Then he might know why Daniel borrowed the money… or who wanted him dead."
Sophia's voice was measured. "If we're going after Salazar, we need to be smart. This isn't just financial fraud. This is organized crime."
"We go in quietly," Ryan added. "Piece by piece. We build a case. Salazar's not someone you confront unless you've already won."
Emma looked at both of them—her allies, her lifeline in this unraveling nightmare.
"Then let's start winning," she said softly.
They nodded, united.
The war had begun.