They Poisoned My Father, So I Bankrupted Their Billion-Dollar Empire

The phone call came at 3:00 AM. The number was blocked.

"Hello?" Jack answered, his voice groggy.

"They came for me," a voice whispered. It was Silas. The old man from the nursing home.

"Silas?" Jack sat up. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I saw the news," Silas wheezed. "Calling your daddy a drunk. He wasn't a drunk. He was a good man. He tried to save us."

"Silas, you have to help us," Jack pleaded. "We need a witness. They stole my laptop. They're winning."

"I'm dying, Jack," Silas said. "The doctors say I got maybe a week. OmniCore stopped paying for my meds when they realized I was useless to them."

There was a pause, filled with static.

"I kept something too," Silas said. "From the meeting. In '95. I have a tape recording."

Jack’s heart hammered against his ribs. "A tape? Of who?"

"Thorne," Silas said. "Meet me at the old quarry. East entrance. Come alone. If you bring the lawyer, I walk."