Chapter 2 - The Ghost Behind the Glass
The employee exit opened three inches.
Sadi stepped backward.
Roman moved between her and the door.
“Don’t open it.”
The handle stopped turning.
For one second, nobody breathed.
Then the door swung inward.
A young security guard stood on the other side, one hand holding his key card and the other clutching a paper takeout bag.
“Mr. Costa?”
Roman didn’t move.
The guard looked from Roman to Sadi.
“What happened?”
Sadi nearly laughed from the force of the relief that hit her.
Almost.
Because the message was still glowing on her phone.
WE FINALLY FOUND YOU, GHOST.
Someone had photographed her less than a minute ago.
Someone knew.
And whoever had sent it was close enough to watch.
Roman glanced at the guard’s badge.
“Evan, did anyone come through this door in the last ten minutes?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re sure?”
“I was outside checking the employee lot.”
“Anyone parked back there?”
“Just staff vehicles.”
Roman’s eyes shifted toward the hallway camera.
“Lock this entrance.”
Evan frowned. “Sir?”
“Now.”
The guard immediately stepped back and pulled the door closed.
The electronic lock clicked.
Roman turned to Sadi.
“Show me your phone.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Sadi.”
“No.”
Gina appeared at the end of the hallway.
“What's going on?”
Sadi locked her screen.
Roman saw it.
So did Gina.
And that tiny movement was enough.
Gina smiled.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
It was the smile of someone who had just confirmed a suspicion.
Roman looked at her.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not.”
“You were.”
Gina folded her arms.
“Maybe because this is getting ridiculous.”
Sadi said nothing.
Roman turned back toward her.
“Someone contacted you.”
It wasn't a question.
Sadi slipped the phone into her cardigan pocket.
“I said I’m leaving.”
“And somebody just found you.”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
Roman caught it.
Damn.
He was observant.
Too observant.
Sadi had spent two years surrounding herself with people who underestimated her.
Roman Costa didn't seem interested in making that mistake.
“What does Ghost mean?” he asked.
Gina's expression changed.
Barely.
But Sadi saw it.
Roman did too.
Sadi shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“You reacted when you saw Gina’s phone.”
“I was upset.”
“Then you got a message.”
“People get messages.”
“And now you look like someone just put a gun to your past.”
Sadi stared at him.
“That’s a strange way to phrase it.”
“Is it inaccurate?”
“Yes.”
Roman waited.
Sadi hated silence when someone else controlled it.
She had once used silence professionally.
Most people rushed to fill it.
They volunteered details.
Corrected themselves.
Contradicted earlier statements.
Roman apparently understood the same technique.
So Sadi gave him nothing.
Finally, Gina sighed.
“If she wants to leave, let her leave.”
Roman turned.
“You're very interested in that.”
“She quit.”
“You were blocking the accounting office five minutes ago.”
“Because you were barging into my department based on some cashier’s imagination.”
Sadi’s head lifted.
Cashier.
There it was.
The dismissal Gina always used when Sadi noticed something inconvenient.
Roman glanced at Sadi.
“Thirty-eight thousand four hundred dollars.”
Gina’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
“The mismatch.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sadi does.”
Gina looked at her.
This time there was no smile.
Sadi felt the warning in that stare.
Roman noticed that too.
He walked back toward the showroom.
“Everybody stays.”
Kyle spoke from beside a display vehicle.
“Mr. Costa, I have a customer—”
“Your customer left six minutes ago.”
Kyle looked toward the entrance.
The showroom was empty except for employees.
Roman continued toward the accounting office.
Sadi stayed in the hallway.
She should leave.
There was another exit through the service department.
She could be home in twenty minutes.
Packed in thirty.
Gone before midnight.
She had done it before.
Different apartment.
Different job.
Different phone.
Another ordinary name on another ordinary application.
Except Sadi Morales was already an ordinary name.
Her original identity had disappeared long before Monza Motors.
Ghost wasn't a person.
It had been a function.
A nickname given to someone who could find the financial fingerprints other people missed.
She had worked for a private forensic accounting firm.
At least, that was what the building directory had said.
Then Sadi discovered some clients weren't paying the company to find fraud.
They were paying it to hide fraud.
And Sadi had made the mistake of keeping evidence.
Her phone vibrated again.
She froze.
Unknown number.
Another message.
RUNNING AGAIN WON’T SAVE YOU.
Sadi stared.
A second message arrived.
ASK COSTA ABOUT PROJECT MARROW.
Her fingers went numb.
Project Marrow.
She knew the name.
Not what it meant.
Only where she'd seen it.
Two years ago.
One encrypted ledger.
Seventeen shell accounts.
Millions moving through companies that seemed unrelated.
Construction.
Medical supply.
Vehicle financing.
Real estate.
Sadi had copied three pages before the system detected her.
Project Marrow had been written at the top.
She had never learned more.
She looked through the glass toward Roman.
He stood beside the accounting computer while Evan unplugged the mysterious storage device.
Roman looked up.
Their eyes met.
Ask Costa.
No.
She couldn't.
Roman was already too interested.
And if his name belonged anywhere near Marrow—
“Sadi.”
She flinched.
Roman approached.
“Come here.”
“No.”
“I found your missing transaction.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
“The thirty-eight four.”
Roman nodded toward the accounting office.
“It's there.”
Sadi walked toward him despite every instinct telling her not to.
On the monitor was the dealership’s internal accounting system.
Roman pointed.
The deposit appeared normal.
$38,400.
Vehicle purchase.
Customer initials.
Financing source.
But Sadi immediately saw the problem.
“Timestamp.”
Roman nodded.
The transaction had supposedly been entered at 4:23 p.m.
But the authorization token attached to it had been generated at 4:31.
Eight minutes later.
“You can't authorize a transaction before the authorization exists,” Roman said.
“No.”
“Could the system glitch?”
“Not like that.”
Gina entered.
“You're taking accounting advice from her now?”
Sadi turned.
Roman didn't.
“I am.”
“She works a register.”
“She found something my managers didn't.”
Gina laughed.
“Or she created it.”
Silence.
Sadi stared at her.
There it was.
The accusation.
Not direct enough to be legally dangerous.
Just direct enough to plant doubt.
Roman slowly faced Gina.
“Explain.”
“I've been thinking.”
“That must be exhausting.”
Kyle looked down quickly to hide his reaction.
Gina ignored him.
“Sadi has system access.”
“Limited access,” Sadi said.
“Enough to flag transactions.”
“Not enough to create financing authorization tokens.”
“Maybe she knows more than she's admitted.”
Sadi felt her pulse slow.
Interesting.
Gina had changed strategies.
First dismiss her.
Then discredit her.
Which meant Gina believed Roman might listen.
Roman leaned against the desk.
The movement was subtle, but Sadi noticed his face tighten.
His injury was bothering him.
“You should get that looked at,” she said.
Roman glanced down at his shirt.
“Later.”
“If you pass out, I'm not catching you.”
Something flickered across his face.
Almost a smile.
“Noted.”
Gina looked irritated by the exchange.
“Roman, can we focus?”
“We are.”
He pointed toward the storage device.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
“It was under a desk in your department.”
“Then ask IT.”
“I did.”
Gina stopped.
Roman continued.
“They didn't install it.”
The room became very quiet.
Sadi looked at the device.
Small.
Black.
No manufacturer marking.
She leaned closer.
Roman noticed.
“You recognize it?”
“Maybe.”
Gina immediately said, “Don't touch it.”
Sadi looked at her.
Gina realized too late how that sounded.
Roman straightened.
“Why?”
“Because it could contain confidential customer information.”
“You said you didn't know what it was.”
Gina opened her mouth.
Nothing.
Sadi crouched beside the desk.
She didn't touch the device.
There was a tiny symbol scratched into the plastic.
Not a logo.
Three intersecting lines.
Sadi's stomach dropped.
She knew that symbol.
It had appeared on the encrypted files connected to Project Marrow.
Roman crouched beside her.
“What?”
Sadi stood too quickly.
The room tilted.
Roman caught her elbow.
She pulled away.
“Don't.”
He immediately released her.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying that right before looking terrified.”
“I am not terrified.”
Gina laughed softly.
Sadi turned toward her.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“You recognize it too.”
Gina's face went blank.
Roman looked between them.
“Recognize what?”
Sadi pointed at the scratched symbol.
“That.”
Roman leaned down.
His expression changed.
It was tiny.
But unmistakable.
Recognition.
Sadi felt cold.
“You know it,” she said.
Roman stood.
“No.”
“You just reacted.”
“So did you.”
“Answer me.”
For the first time, Roman looked genuinely guarded.
“Where have you seen it?”
Sadi's phone felt like a burning object in her pocket.
ASK COSTA ABOUT PROJECT MARROW.
She stared at him.
Then said the words.
“Project Marrow.”
Roman went completely still.
Gina whispered something under her breath.
Sadi didn't catch it.
Roman did.
He turned toward Gina.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Roman stepped closer.
“Say it again.”
Gina backed away.
Sadi had never seen her do that.
Roman wasn't threatening her.
He didn't have to.
Gina's fear came from something else.
Knowledge.
History.
Roman looked at Sadi.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Answer my question first.”
“What question?”
“What is Marrow?”
Roman glanced toward Evan.
“Clear the showroom.”
Gina said, “Roman—”
“Everyone except Sadi and Gina leaves.”
Kyle didn't need to be told twice.
Mark followed.
Evan began guiding the remaining staff toward the front.
Sadi folded her arms.
“I didn't agree to stay.”
Roman looked at her.
“You've been hiding for two years.”
Her heart stopped.
Gina stared at Roman.
Roman stared at Sadi.
“How do you know that?”
“I didn't.”
Sadi realized.
He had guessed.
And she had confirmed it.
Roman exhaled.
“Whatever Ghost means, whoever sent you that message—”
Sadi stepped back.
“How do you know about the message?”
“I watched your face.”
“You didn't see the screen.”
“No.”
“Then don't pretend you know anything.”
Roman lowered his voice.
“I know somebody installed an unauthorized device inside my accounting department. I know Gina tried to stop me from seeing it. I know you recognized its symbol. And I know one phrase turned you from someone trying to quit a bad job into someone planning an escape route.”
Sadi said nothing.
Roman pointed toward the hallway.
“You looked at three exits in less than thirty seconds.”
She hated him.
Not personally.
Professionally.
He noticed too much.
Roman continued.
“I'm not your enemy.”
“You don't know that.”
His expression shifted.
“Fair.”
The answer surprised her.
No denial.
No demand for trust.
Just fair.
Roman looked toward the accounting screen.
“My father used the word Marrow once.”
Sadi waited.
“Before he died.”
Gina's face tightened.
Roman saw it.
“When?” Sadi asked.
“Three days before his death.”
“What did he say?”
Roman looked directly at her.
“He told me that if I ever heard the word again, I should assume someone inside the company had betrayed us.”
Sadi's skin prickled.
“Company?”
“Not the dealership.”
“What company?”
Roman didn't answer.
Sadi laughed without humor.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The part where you expect me to tell you everything while you tell me nothing.”
Roman nodded slowly.
“You're right.”
Gina stared at him.
“Roman, don't.”
He ignored her.
“My family owns a holding company. Monza is one asset.”
Sadi knew that much.
“What else?”
“Transportation. Warehousing. Property. Several investment entities.”
“Vehicle financing?”
Roman hesitated.
“Yes.”
Sadi's chest tightened.
Of course.
Gina suddenly moved toward the door.
Roman blocked her path.
“Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.”
“No.”
“You can't detain me.”
“You're right.”
Roman stepped aside.
“Go.”
Gina looked surprised.
She walked past him.
Sadi watched.
Gina reached the hallway.
Turned left.
The bathroom was right.
“She’s not going to the bathroom,” Sadi said.
Roman was already moving.
They followed.
Gina disappeared around the corner.
By the time they reached it, the service corridor door was swinging.
Roman pushed through.
Empty.
“Damn it.”
Sadi saw a red EXIT sign at the far end.
Roman started toward it.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
Sadi pointed at the floor.
Gina's phone.
Lying facedown.
Roman picked it up.
The screen was cracked.
But still illuminated.
A message preview sat at the top.
UNKNOWN CONTACT:
SHE REMEMBERED MARROW.
Roman looked at Sadi.
A second notification appeared.
DO NOT LET HER ACCESS THE DEVICE.
Sadi's heartbeat accelerated.
Roman turned toward the accounting office.
They ran back.
The black storage device was gone.
Evan stood beside the desk.
“What happened?” Roman demanded.
“I thought you had it.”
“No.”
“I stepped out for maybe thirty seconds.”
Sadi looked at the empty cable.
Whoever took it had been waiting.
Watching.
Roman pulled out his phone.
“Lock the building.”
Evan hurried away.
Sadi stared at the monitor.
Something had changed.
A new window.
Black screen.
White text.
She moved closer.
Roman followed.
One line appeared.
GHOST ACCOUNT DETECTED.
Then another.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED: S. MORALES.
Sadi stopped breathing.
Roman read it.
“What is this?”
“I don't know.”
The cursor moved by itself.
Someone was remotely controlling the computer.
A folder opened.
Inside were dozens of files.
Dates.
Account numbers.
Photographs.
Sadi recognized one photograph immediately.
Herself.
Two years younger.
Standing outside the forensic accounting firm.
Another file opened.
Her old employee profile.
Roman looked at her.
“Sadi—”
“Don't.”
The screen changed again.
A video file appeared.
Timestamped two years earlier.
Sadi stared at the thumbnail.
Her former supervisor.
Daniel Voss.
The man who had told her to run.
The man officially declared dead six months later.
Roman reached toward the mouse.
Sadi caught his wrist.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever is controlling this wants us to open it.”
Roman looked at her hand.
She released him.
The video opened anyway.
Daniel Voss appeared on screen.
Alive.
Terrified.
He looked directly into the camera.
“If you're seeing this, they found the Ghost.”
Sadi's knees weakened.
Roman stared at the screen.
Daniel continued.
“Sadi, listen carefully. Marrow was never an account.”
Static distorted the image.
Sadi leaned forward.
“It was a list.”
The video froze.
Then resumed.
“A list of what?” Roman whispered.
Daniel looked over his shoulder as if someone had entered the room.
Then back at the camera.
“A list of people placed inside companies before they were taken apart from within.”
Roman's face changed.
Daniel continued.
“Dealerships. Banks. Warehouses. Law firms. Everywhere money could disappear.”
Sadi thought of Gina.
The storage device.
The false deposit.
Daniel leaned toward the camera.
“And if Roman Costa is standing beside you when this plays—”
Roman went rigid.
The screen went black.
Sadi stared.
“No.”
She grabbed the mouse.
Nothing.
The computer had disconnected.
Roman looked at her.
“What was he going to say?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“The man who told me to disappear.”
Roman's phone vibrated.
He looked down.
Sadi saw the color drain from his face.
“What?”
Roman didn't answer.
He turned the screen toward her.
A photograph.
Gina.
Sitting inside a car.
Not alone.
Beside her was Daniel Voss.
The supposedly dead man from the video.
The photograph had been taken tonight.
Sadi stared at the timestamp.
Three minutes ago.
Roman immediately called security.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then the dealership lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the showroom.
Emergency lights flickered red along the floor.
Sadi heard a lock release somewhere behind them.
Roman moved beside her.
“Stay close.”
A phone began ringing inside Gina's abandoned office.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Sadi looked through the darkness.
The office door slowly opened.
The ringing stopped.
A man's voice came from inside.
“Sadi.”
She froze.
She knew that voice.
May you like
Roman reached for the door.
Someone on the other side whispered her old name.
