Page 117 of Road to Redemption

But Dom… even as Keith’s bones crunched beneath her fists, she knew that her father was to blame. Worse, she knew there was nothing more she could do to protect Kiera.

Now, she finally had a chance to set things right.

I wasn’t sure whether doling out Keith’s Justice made her cross any easier to bear. But I hoped that once Isaac was dealt with that she might be able to release some of the weight from her conscience.

I should stop wasting time…

Cracking my knuckles, I returned my tired eyes back to my screen. But before I could click through another collection of sales reports, Dom startled in her chair.

“Shit…” she murmured, eyes widening at her screen.

“What?” My stomach lurched as her clicking picked up speed. Had they detected her malware? Revoked our access?

But when she looked up, horror and relief clashed in her eyes. “I think I’ve got it.”

I tossed down my laptop and bounded over to her seat, looking over her shoulder to see what she’d uncovered.

“Spencer!” Kiera called down the hall as she took a spot on the opposite side of Dom.

“Found something?” Spencer asked, apron still hanging from her neck as she jogged in from the kitchen.

“More than just something,” I muttered, shaking my head. There were millions of emails and photos in a hard drive folder labeled “VAULT_00S.” And somehow, each file that Dom clicked through was more depraved than the last.

Amongst the collection were image and video files, flight logs, financial ledgers, and intercepted FBI interview notes. These fuckers hid behind code names and burner emails while they exploited children as young as nine, using their power and wealth to cover up their crimes.

It wasn’t long before I had to look away, feeling bile burn at my throat.

This made what we found in Gabe’s apartment look like small change.

“God, I can’t believe how… explicit he was.” Kiera shuddered, letting Spencer wrap an arm around her. “I don’t know if they make him or the people he’s blackmailing look worse.”

“It’s all the same,” Dom scowled. “Mutually assured destruction. If someone makes a move on him, his reputation is already ruined. At that point, all that forking over these emails would do is make sure that they go down with him.”

“Still,” Spencer shook her head. “I can’t imagine why he would put this shit in writing.”

“They’re old files,” Dom scowled. “Back before these fuckers realized that the internet is forever.”

“Plus, he was probably emboldened by years and years of getting away with his crimes,” I added.

Even through all the nicknames and coded language, it was easy to tell that there were thousands of the world’s most influential figures in these files. Politicians, celebrities, financiers, government agents, reporters, and business executives: all living in Isaac’s back pocket.

“Do a search for Callahan,” I muttered, pushing the words past the lump in my throat. If there was anything to find, it was clear that it would be in here.

For a long moment, the load bar stalled.

Maybe my parents really are innocent…

But then a long list of files loaded onto the screen. Hundreds of emails between my father and Isaac. Some contained government contracts and other under the table dealings. But many of them spoke in coded language about “the girls,” and who should be invited to ‘meet’ them.

It was less transparent than some of Isaac’s other chats, but it was clear exactly what they were arranging. And that alone was enough to make me sick. But then, buried in the mountains of evidence, I saw my own name.

“That one,” I directed Dom, my finger hovering above her screen.

And as she clicked into the downloaded email chain, my stomach twisted. At the end of a lengthy exchange about the latest contract my father had secured for Isaac was an invitation for a vacation.

ISAAC: You and Martha should visit us in Valemont. Cute town. Cuter girls. Yours has grown up quite a bit now. Leona?

GENERAL CALLAHAN: A bit old for your taste. She was much cuter before. The haircut is too dykey. Hoping boarding school breaks that rebellious streak. Martha and I can do August?